Only Us
by ThexInvisiblexGirl
Summary: 10 years after Rent: She is back to NYC on Christmas. He has never left. Against all odds, they meet again. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- December 24th, 9 PM... not EST unfortunately, but my time. Still, I've been waiting for months to use this line so whatever! ****This is my attempt to write a sweet, pointless Christmassy fic, even though I'm Jewish and therefore never celebrated Christmas. Ha ha. Hope you'll like it. Let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer- you know the drill. Still, own nothing.**

**Only Us**

New York City never looked so beautiful. It was like looking at a live greeting card. Soft snowflakes were falling upon cars and yellow cabs, passersby, businessmen in dark suits and children in colorful winter coats along with their parents. No one seemed to care much about it. It was Christmas after all. If it was not snowing on Christmas, when would it, right?

She snuggled into her coat and nodded her goodbye to the doorman, then went out to the street. A sudden shiver ran through her, but it wasn't necessarily a result of the cold air. It was all too familiar; the sights, the sounds, the snow… Why was it so difficult to let go of the memories of the past after all these years?

It was snowing when she left ten years ago, as well. She remembered it as if it all happened yesterday. It was in that funeral back in February when she decided that she had enough. No more death, no more sorrow. She had to move away to a better place. She had to start over. So she left without telling anyone. She spent many days on the roads before she decided on her final destination. The City of Angels. Just because it seemed right. She sent them a postcard that said _I'm fine. Just needed to jump over the moon. MJ_. She didn't leave an address. She had never called.

As always, she pulled herself together quite quickly. She worked hard to pursue her goal, to change, to grow up, to be better. Since the diva within her still needed her stage, and it was hard to get fully detached from show business so fast, she fought to get herself gigs in godforsaken clubs in downtown LA, and some small roles in the city's most crummy theaters.

After endless auditions and even a higher amount of rejections she decided that she had enough of that life. She left LA and moved to San Francisco, where she found what other people might call a 'decent' job, as a secretary in an advertising company. She struggled her way up the top until she eventually became the head of the publicity department, the year before. She was always good at speaking for things she believed in, so it was not really a hard job, just demanding and sometimes stressful. That didn't bother her, at least not in the beginning. This was what she most wanted, after all. It helped her escape the past. But then Libby came storming into her life, and soon she became the head of the department and the job seemed to be even more demanding. She hardly had time to herself, let alone time to spend with Libby, but she couldn't complain. At least she had a steady job that allowed her to live well and pay the rent.

One day she realized that she became another woman in an expensive business suit, one of these women they were always mocking to when they bumped into them on the subway. One of these normal, ordinary women. It was so unlike her, to surrender to the routine of life, but she assumed it was a part of growing up. She used to wonder every now and then if they were different now, as well. Were they even alive? She didn't know. She wasn't sure she wanted to. But every time that question occupied her thoughts, she realized that no matter how far she attempted to go, there was no way to fully detach herself from them, from the memories they all shared. Friendship was thicker than blood, it appeared. She used to think of it as nothing but a childish cliché.

And now she was back in the alphabet city. She couldn't get away with it, not this time. It was expected from her to be there for the company's annual convention, as the new head of the department. Two weeks seemed like forever, but she had no other choice. Besides, Libby had never been in New York. That alone was a good reason to go back.

So many changes, she thought as she made her way through the crowd. The buildings seemed higher, the streets impossibly more packed. Everything seemed to be new, yet achingly familiar at the same time.

She needed to go back to the hotel. She had an important meeting that afternoon, and she wanted to spend some time with Libby before that. They could go to the park, or window shop on 5th avenue. Libby had already expressed her resentment about her spending too many hours in work. They were so much alike, it was scary sometimes. They would spend that evening together, she decided. Right after that meeting, they'd go to have dinner someplace nice. Yeah, Libby would like that.

She walked slowly, hastily, enjoying the snow that fell softly on her hair and face. It was rarely snowing in LA, or San Francisco, which was one of her reasons to choose both of them back then. She missed the snow, she came to realize.

Did it help? Did walking away resolve everything, or did it make things worse? Was she a better person now than the one she had been ten years ago? She wanted to believe that she was, but was she, really?

She was sure of one thing. Libby had made her better. She meant the world to her. For the first time in her life she felt compelled to change for someone, in a way she had never done before. It was difficult at times, especially because she had to give up on so many things, but it was definitely worth it. On that she had no doubts.

She noticed something at the other side of the street, and stopped abruptly. She crossed the street by impulse, feeling an undeniable urge to go there. The gallery was well lightened. There weren't many people inside, but she guessed it was due to the hour. It wasn't a big room, but she took her time walking slowly from wall to wall, carefully observing each and every photo behind its frame. She always enjoyed art, let alone photography, and ever since she got her new position in the company she felt committed to take notice of small details, the things other people never noticed, whether she liked it or not. And the person who took these photos was good. Very good. There was something sharp but soft and sentimental, even familiar, in these photos. Its touch was professional yet emotional at the same time. It was an excellent work. She was impressed.

"This one is my favorite too," said a voice from behind her. She turned abruptly, and her eyes met the green eyes of an unfamiliar young woman in jeans and white sweater.

"Yeah, it's… beautiful," she agreed. "Is this your gallery?"

The young woman laughed softly. "No, are you kidding? I'll never have such natural talent. I'm just helping a friend of mine to run it."

"Oh." She couldn't think of anything clever to say. She knew she should probably get going, back to the hotel, to Libby, but she was fascinated by what she was seeing. She lost herself in another photo when that kind voice spoke again.

"You know, if you are interested in photography you should come here tomorrow. That friend of mine who took all these pictures, he'll be here, he is always glad to speak about his work."

"Maybe I will," she smiled. She didn't even know why she said it. She was interested in photography, but she had a lot of work to do the next day, not to mention that afternoon, and she didn't even plan to go back to meet this person who took all these wonderful pictures, but she didn't want to sound rude.

Soon, though, she forgot all about that conversation. Her work had given her a refuge, as it always did, and it was way after midnight when she made it back to the hotel. She didn't even have a chance to go to that dinner with Libby, who was fast asleep by the time she came back to their room. But the next day, when she left the company building after another meeting, she couldn't help but think back about it. Before she knew it she was standing at the entrance of that gallery again. For a moment she couldn't even understand how she got there.

The woman that was there the day before wasn't anywhere to be seen. It was late afternoon, nearly twilight, so there were more people there now. The tiny room was crowded. She wasn't even sure what was she looking for. Then something at the far end of the gallery made her stop on her tracks.

It was a man, who was standing there with his back turned to her. He was occupied in conversation with another man. He looked about her age but obviously much taller. He was wearing black pants and a navy blue sweater, but the thing that stricken her most familiar was his hair, which was blonde. Real blonde.

Was it him? What were the odds? And if it was, what would she tell him? Should she go there? There were too many questions, too many wonders, but once again she decided to go with her instincts, as she started making her way through the crowd.

She recognized his voice instantly. She had no doubt it was him. She knew it would be wrong to just barge in on him like she was about to do, since he was so deep in conversation with that man, but she just had to, before she'd lose her courage.

"Mark."

He turned around immediately and seemed to recognize her, for he gave her one astonished look and his jaw nearly dropped. "Maureen?"

She nodded and offered him a weak smile. "Hi."

The man who was standing next to him excused himself and left. There was a bit of awkward silence as they stood there, just observing each other. As far as she was concerned, it was as if the other people in the room had ceased to exist, and it was only the two of them in the small room. Mark stared at her for the longest time, as if having hard time to believe it was her. "You look… different," he said eventually.

Another woman in a suit. "You look the same."

He laughed. "Is this a good thing or a bad thing?"

"I don't know. Is different good or bad?"

"I'm not sure, it's just…" his voice trailed off.

"Are you still living in New York?"

"Yeah. Never left. You?"

"No, I'm here for two weeks or so, on Business." It sounded so unbelievable, so amazingly boastful and even phony in a way; she could not believe she was the one saying it. She sounded like a stranger, even to her own ears.

Apparently, he thought the same, for he now cocked an eyebrow at her, obviously amused. "Maureen Johnson, business?"

"I'm afraid so," she laughed in spite of herself. "Are you still in filming?"

"Yeah, pretty much." She actually knew that. His name was mentioned in some of the San Francisco magazines every now and then, credited for some independent film or other he directed. Though she never fully read them, she always felt proud when she caught those references. He deserved to be known and successful. And it made her happy to know that at least one of them got on the right track. This was what he always wanted to do, after all.

"Is the photographer a friend of yours by the way?"

He smiled. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, just interested."

"Do you like his work?"

She looked around her and smiled at him. "Yeah, I do, it's…" then she suddenly realized something and looked at him. "Is this _your_ gallery?"

"Yes, it is."

She shouldn't have been surprised. He was a successful director already, so it was obvious that everything else was only a matter of time. And it was about time that other people would appreciate that natural talent he always had. She glanced at him and caught him looking at her. He blushed slightly but didn't look away.

"Are you in touch with the rest of the guys?" She told herself she was only trying to make a conversation and break the awkward silence, but found herself waiting impatiently for his reply. She did miss all of them, she realized, even after all this time, all her failing attempts to let go of her past.

Mark shook his head. "Not really," he said, and his face wore a weird expression. "They're all gone."

Hearing that was much more painful than she thought it would be. It felt like a knife that went right through her heart. The last time she had seen them was in Mimi's funeral, back on that cursed day in the middle of February. She looked at him sorrowfully but said nothing.

As if assuming she wanted to hear more about it, he continued. "Collins passed away five years ago. Roger… he died last Christmas."

She could hear the pain in his voice as he said it, and couldn't help but pity him. He did what she avoided doing. He watched them all go. And she imagined how horrible it must have been for him, losing them all like this, one after the other, especially Roger, who was his best friend forever. "I'm sorry," she said eventually.

"It's a bit late to be sorry now, isn't it?"

She was taken aback by the tone this question carried. It was accusing, bitter, so unlike the Mark she used to know. And yet, the worst part about it was that deep inside, she knew that he was right. She should have been there with them. She shouldn't have run away. But it was too late to be sorry, too late to fix everything. Way too late. "Look, Mark, it's been too many years, I'm not going to apologize-"

He cut her off. "I used to hate you for leaving us to deal with this shit alone," he said. His voice softened; it was no longer that nasty, unfamiliar tone. "We couldn't track you; you didn't tell us where the hell you were going. We knew you went to LA by the stamp on that postcard but everywhere we looked we got to a dead end. So we gave up on you, just as you gave up on us. But then there were other times, especially after we lost Collins, when I thought… that maybe I should have done the same." He paused, as if lost in thoughts, then asked a bit hesitantly, "How's Joanne? Are you two still…?"

Oh, talking about ancient history. She laughed softly. "Mark, I haven't heard from Joanne ever since she dumped me ten years ago." It happened couple of weeks before Mimi died, when they all spent hours at the hospital by her bedside. But Mark couldn't know that, she had never told them.

"Oh. Sorry," he said quietly, as if embarrassed.

She smiled reassuringly. "Don't." Joanne was definitely part of the past; among other lovers, men and women, she had since then. As her gaze wandered from his eyes downwards, she suddenly noticed he wasn't wearing any ring. "You're not married," she observed. It came out more as a statement than a question. She was surprised. A sweet guy like Mark didn't get hooked yet? Was that possible?

It seemed to take him by surprise. His gaze followed hers. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I…" he laughed. "I guess I've never found the time."

"I always figured you'd be the first of us to get married."

He smiled, pretending to look apologetic. "Sorry to ruin this for you," he said, and looked at her inquiringly. "And you?" It was asked only half heartedly, as if he believed he knew the answer.

"Divorced." He tried not to look stunned, but she knew he wasn't expecting this. She smiled. "Sorry to ruin this for _you_."

"Were you married for long?"

"Nearly a year, until I realized what a bastard he really was." He was much more than that, but she was tired of long explanations, and Mark was always too polite to stick his nose in other people's business anyway.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said eventually.

She shook her head. "Don't be. Marrying him in the first place was pretty stupid." It was the first time she admitted that aloud. It wasn't so bad to admit it as she assumed it would be. Then, without realizing she was saying it aloud, "Can I see you again?"

He hesitated. "Why?"

She looked at him honestly, and tried not to fall too deep into his eyes. They were in the same mesmerizing bluish color as they were so many years before, when she had first fallen for him. His expression was different now, less dreamy, more down-to-earth and mature. "I missed you." Mark returned her look, his expression uncertain. She thought about what he told her a moment ago. They're all gone. There's only us, she suddenly realized. She couldn't let it go. She took one of her business cards out of her purse and handed it to him. "Here. That's my card. If you ever get to San Francisco…" her voice trailed off. Their gazes locked.

Mark gently took the card from her and examined it. "You made a long way," he said quietly, looking back at her.

"I think we both have," she replied, and moved closer. Guided by instinct once again, she laid a small kiss on his lips, then pulled away.

He didn't look completely shocked, just a bit surprised. "What was that for?"

She smiled. "Just… for old times." She stopped herself from tousling his hair like she used to do back then. "Goodbye, Mark." Maybe it was for the best, she told herself as she turned to leave the gallery. It probably was. Yet she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

"How about a dinner tomorrow?" she heard him ask. She turned and gave him a slightly surprised look. She wasn't expecting this. He shrugged. "Just… for old times."

She smiled as her own words echoed back at her. But then another thing occurred to her, and her smile slowly faded. As much as she wanted to see him again, she knew it might get complicated. He must know the truth. She needed to tell him about Libby. "Mark, I want to be honest with you," she started hesitantly. "I'm kind of living with someone." Yeah, THAT was very honest, she scolded herself.

Was that disappointment she detected in his eyes? "Will he mind you'll go to dinner with an old friend?"

She smiled mysteriously. "You're assuming it's a he?" He gave her a puzzled look, so she went on. "It's not a 'he', and no, I don't think she'll mind."

"How long were you together?"

"For quite some time now," she said vaguely.

She wanted to see him the next day. She had a meeting the next afternoon, but she didn't think it would last very long. And she'd handle Libby. She just wanted to spend as much time with him as she could before she'd have to move away again. "Dinner tomorrow will be great," she said eventually, feeling a new confidence. He still looked dubious though. "Look… my cell number is on that card. Give me a call tomorrow?"

"Okay," he finally relented. "Okay, I will."

She smiled. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then." She turned away and was about to leave again when she heard him calling after her again.

"Maureen?"

"Yeah?"

"I missed you too." They shared another smile before she turned and left the gallery.

* * *

It was nearly 10PM when she got back to the hotel that night. She didn't even realize how late it was until she went out of the elevator and glanced at her watch. She took the key card out of her briefcase and opened the door, repressing a yawn. It was warm in the dimly lit suite. Though she had never liked hotel rooms, she found the warmth somewhat comforting, especially comparing to the freezing cold outside. She suspected it would be snowing again soon. Only for that moment, the room felt almost like home. 

"Maureen?" asked a female voice as she put her briefcase on a side table and took off her coat. Soon afterwards a young woman entered the living area of the suite. "That was one busy afternoon."

"Yes, I know, I'm so late, I'm sorry… I'll pay you the extra hours, Robin, don't you worry about it."

"That's okay. I have no life," said Robin smiling. "And I'm not here because you pay me, how many times do I have to remind you that."

"How was your day?"

"Great. We went to see Santa in the mall, and then this afternoon we went ice-skating. She really wanted to see you but she was worn out. Fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow."

"Sounds like you had fun. Here," she took some money out of her purse and handed it to the younger woman. "Sorry I kept you until now. Get out of here."

"I'll see you tomorrow morning then?"

"Actually, I might need your help tomorrow night too. Unless you've got other plans…"

"Told you. I've got no life. I'll be here."

"Great. Thanks Robin."

"Hot date?" asked Robin winking.

She laughed, Mark's image filling her mind. Anything but that. "Good night, Robin."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm out of here…" Robin grabbed her backpack and her coat and left the room, waving her goodbye.

She stayed where she was standing, looking at the door moments after it was closed. She was lucky to find Robin, she knew. She was the niece of one of her colleagues, a student that happened to come home for Christmas and looked for a job to pass her time. They got along marvelously from the moment they met, and even more importantly, Libby adored her. It seemed like the perfect arrangement for all of them while she was working.

She slipped out of her shoes with a sigh of relief, and left them on the floor as she made her way down the hall and into the bedroom.

A lamp on the nightstand gave the only light in the room, illuminating a figure that was sleeping soundly under the covers in the king sized bed. She smiled and watched her for a long moment from a safe distance at the doorway. She looked angelic in her sleep, so peaceful and innocent, her long dark hair falling softly on the pillows. Moments like this reminded her of why she did everything the way she did. For the first time in her life, she didn't do things for herself, but for someone else. It felt strange to realize that at first, but so true at the same time. But then, it worked the other way around, too. She wouldn't have gotten anywhere if it wasn't for Libby.

She smiled as she sat on the edge of the bed and watched her more closely. Moments like this caused all the doubts and second thoughts she had long ago to slowly disappear. She was lucky to have her. They were lucky to have each other. She caressed her hair softly and leaned her head against her cheek. What was she dreaming about? Did she know how much she meant to her? Did she even realize how much happiness she brought into her life?

Libby's eyes fluttered open. "Mommy?"

"Shh… go to sleep baby," she murmured, looking at her five-year-old lovingly. The girl nodded and closed her eyes again, cuddling against her mother and drifting back to sweet slumber.

Her thoughts drifted back to what occurred hours before, to the gallery, to Mark. He was right. She made a long way, but so was he. She told him he looked the same, but he was obviously changed as well. It's been ten years since the last time she had seen him, after all.

She slowly let go of the sleeping child and entered to the bathroom to get ready for bed. She still had a lot of work to do, but she decided to leave it for the next morning. She entered the bedroom and got under the covers, holding her daughter closer to her. She breathed her sweet scent as she closed her eyes.

She wasn't sure why she gave Mark obscure hints about Libby instead of telling him directly. It wasn't because she was afraid of what he would think, because never gave a damn of what other people thought about her, even before she had Libby. And back then, anything seemed better than raising Libby with a man who never wanted her in the first place. Besides, if she knew Mark as she thought she still did, it wouldn't even bother him. She'd tell him tomorrow, she decided, when he'd call. If he'd call.

Soon she was fast asleep as well. Outside, in the city that was once her home, the city that held some of her happiest, but also her saddest memories, it was snowing again.

* * *

**I consider to write a part 2 for this, in Mark's POV this time. Just a thought so far, but stay tuned, it might happen.**

**Marry Christmas everyone.**

**Love, T.M**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N- okay, we all knew this was coming! I've decided to make a short story out of that Christmas one-shot. I know holiday season is over, but try to stay in that holiday mood for my little holiday fairy tale. Also, this is my first attempt to write in Mark's POV, I might not be very good at it so my apologies. Hopefully it'll get better. **

**Chapter 2**

It had stopped snowing by the time he woke up. Now the City was waking, covered with soft layer of frost, which the rising sun was slowly melting away. He lingered near his bedroom window, looking down at the trees in Central Park. Their trunks were laced with snowflakes that glistened in the sunlight. For just a moment, he let memories take hold on him again. He tried to shut them out, but he could hardly resist them. It was always impossible to do so around the holidays' season. Everything always seemed to go back to that far away day… December 24th, 9 PM. When it all started. He could hardly believe it all happened ten years ago.

He turned away from the window, replacing that sudden sense of nostalgia with a more reasonable approach. He had a lot of work to do that day and he was already late. Taking his bag from the living room floor, he took a look around him, and sighed wearily. Whoever would walk in there would think he had just moved in. The room had hardly any furniture except for a leather sofa, some bookshelves, half empty, a television and his photography equipment. Everything else was still packed in carton boxes that were spread all over the bare parquet floor. Boxes full of memories. The truth was, that he lived there for almost three months, and back then he unpacked only what was necessary. The rest, he figured, he could do later. He had never found the right time for it.

As always, he chose to walk to the gallery instead of getting stuck in traffic. There was something in the chilly morning air that made him feel refreshed. His head was throbbing. He hardly slept the night before. Only this time, he couldn't blame his work for this insomnia. Not even the past memories that came back to haunt him in his sleep every now and again. Well, not exactly. It was a memory of a different kind this time. Just like years before, the source of his restless night, of his worries, his thoughts, was… her.

It was still unbelievable to him, the way she had just showed up there, out of the blue, in the middle of his gallery. Back then when she left, he thought he'd never see her again. He still had that postcard somewhere, in one of the boxes on his living room floor. Back then, it was the only thing of hers he could hold on to. Back then, when he was still in love with her. He stuffed it inside a thick book one day, when he decided he didn't want to hear from her ever again. It was right after they lost Collins. He remembered how much she loved Collins, so he and Roger did everything they could to locate her before the funeral. They thought she'd want to go over there, to say goodbye to her friend… but they couldn't find her. He told himself it was her second chance to regret leaving them, to prove that she still cared about them, but she didn't take it. She didn't come back. She had completely given up on them. And with that realization, he gave up on her as well. His nearly obsessive love for her was instinctively replaced with anger and hate, but then it simply started to fade away. She became nothing more than a memory. He had plenty of those. He had almost forgotten her.

And then she came back.

She was obviously different, he thought. She was still beautiful, more than he ever allowed himself to remember, but in a different way, a way he wasn't sure he could really define. He suspected that this change was not only external. She said she was in town for business, which was another unbelievable fact. He couldn't prevent from a small smile to curl on his lips. Who would have thought?

He crossed the street towards the gallery, pondering over the only question that occupied his thoughts from the moment he got home the other night.

Should he call her?

He laughed when he realized he had been through this before so many years ago, when the same beautiful girl wrote her phone number on his arm in a crowded bar. It took him three days to brew enough courage and call her back then. This time, he knew, he didn't have much time. She was leaving town in a week or two, and then who knew if he'd ever see her again. But did he really want to go through all that again? She said she missed him and of course, he missed her too, how could he not miss her? And he told her he'd call… but should he?

_I'm kind of living with someone… It's not a 'he'…_ Her voice echoed through his mind. He tried to convince himself this small fact didn't bother him. Why would it? It was just dinner, after all. He was the one suggesting it. He wasn't expecting anything to happen, really. Not after all this time. Above all things, he wasn't expecting to fall back in love with her like so many years before. But she was his friend. They shared a past and memories. He was just curious to know what she has been doing all this time.

Since they didn't open before ten every morning, the gallery was still dark and empty as he walked in. He took off his coat and entered the back room, where his office was. A woman raised her head from a large notebook, and smiled as she noticed him.

"Merry Christmas, Cohen," she greeted.

He frowned. "Happy Chanukah, Horowitz." He turned from her to pour himself coffee.

"Yeah, like I don't have enough from my parents when it comes to reminding me what an awful Jew I am," she huffed her discontent. "Woke up late again?"

"I'm sorry, next time I'll bring a note from my mother," he teased and hung his coat on a rack in the corner.

He knew Tammy Horowitz for years. She was a student in a photography workshop he instructed, and they dated couple of times before they got to the mutual realization it would never work. They just had too many things in common. They stayed good friends ever since, and she was the only one he could think about in helping him running his gallery when it finally opened. Tammy was his closest friend, especially after Roger died. She was intelligent, funny and sarcastic, and she always seemed to know what was on his mind, even when he didn't say anything.

They talked some more about the gallery while he finished his coffee. He listened to her story about an odd couple that visited there the previous day while he was gone, but couldn't stay concentrated. His thoughts kept wandering back to the previous evening's events. To call or not to call, that is the quest-

"Something is bothering you," she said all of a sudden. His head snapped up, and he realized that she was staring at him, waiting for his answer on something she said, and he didn't even hear. "What is it?"

"Nothing bothers me, why do you think that?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You can't fool me, Cohen. Come on, let me guess," she snatched his empty coffee mug and peered inside.

He stared at her in disbelief. "Since when you do _that_?"

"There are _some_ things you still don't know about me," she replied mysteriously. From some reason, the way she said it reminded him of Maureen. "Come on, sit down and shut up, let's see if I'm right."

He sighed, but knew better than argue with her. He sat down across from her and watched attentively as she looked inside the mug in concentration.

"Hmm. I see… a woman… can't see her face very clearly, but I see a name."

He cocked an eyebrow. "A name," he repeated skeptically.

She barely looked at him. "Ah-huh. It looks like… Starts with an M… Marianna… no, wait, that's not that… Mo… Maureen… Johnson. That's it."

He couldn't do much, but stare. How on earth did she do that?

She noticed his look of amazement, it appeared. She smirked. "Don't look at me like that, Cohen, and answer these two questions. The first is when the hell did you meet a girl you never told me about and the second, when are you going to call her?" she finished, holding up a small card in her right hand. It looked familiar.

"Where did you find that?" he asked, snatching the card from her hand.

"It was here, by the phone." There wasn't the least of guilt in her voice.

"I should have seen this coming."

"So are you going to tell me who is she or what?"

"Knowing you, you won't let it go until I will."

"Exactly. So you'd better do it out of your free will." Their gazes locked, hers as stubborn as his. He sighed, giving up. She smiled in satisfaction. "When did you meet her?"

"Yesterday evening, right after you left."

"Is she pretty?"

He smiled. It was so un-Tammy to ask such a thing. She sounded like such a girl. "Yes, she is."

"Single?"

"Divorced," he replied shortly, mostly because it was all he knew. She only mentioned it briefly the other night and he didn't ask more because, well, it was none of his business. Still, it caught him completely by off guard because it was so unlike her. He knew there must have been something else in this story.

"Is she blind? A serial killer? Temporarily insane?"

Okay, now he couldn't see where she was going with her questions. "No… why would you ask that?"

"Because, Cohen, I'm trying to figure out why the hell she gave this card to _you_ of all people!"

"Oh, thank you very much! That's very sweet of you to say. Like I don't feel pathetic enough without your generous help, being single at almost 35."

"I thought we had this agreement; we'll marry each other if we won't find a suitable match in the next three years or so."

"May I remind you that it was _you_ who suggested this so-called agreement in Michael and Rachel's wedding while you were drunk?"

She had that contemplating expression on, but only for a second. Then she looked at him, deadly serious. "Maybe we should consider it. I mean, we're pathetic enough even without it. It will surely make our parents happy." She smirked, then looked at him. "So a pretty woman walks into this gallery, she's hitting on you, and leaves her number out of her own free will."

"This isn't what happened-" he tried to protest.

"I'm sure it isn't, but let me have my fun!"

"No, you don't understand. I don't know her from yesterday."

Now she looked slightly confused. "Oh?"

"I thought I told you this before. A long time ago, she was the one that-"

"-Dumped you for another woman?" she completed with sudden realization.

She made it sound so pitiful, impossibly more pitiful than it already was. Sometimes he just felt like strangling her. "Gee, you surely now how to boost someone's ego, huh?"

"Well, it's her, right? I remember it now. She was the girl that broke your heart almost a decade ago? The one you couldn't stop talking about on our first date, even though it's been years since you had last seen her?"

"What? I didn't-"

"First stage: denial," she cut him off shamelessly.

"What are you talking about? I was over her by the time you and I had our first date! I AM over her right now!"

"So what is she doing back in New York?" she asked, snatching the card again, ignoring his attempts for self-defense.

"I don't know. I haven't seen her for years and then suddenly, yesterday she was here."

"Specifically looking for you?"

"No, she didn't seem like she knew I'd be here. It was kind of strange actually." He remembered that awkward moment, right after he told her that they were all gone. That seemed to hurt her, like she wasn't expecting to hear it. Just for a moment, he was glad that it hurt her, just as he was glad his nasty remark that followed hurt her too. He thought she deserved it for turning her back on them, for showing care and interest only after it was too late. Maybe it was childish to feel that way, but he couldn't help it. But then again, he couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen in her eyes. Happiness, contentment, serenity. This was what living so far away did to her. And it might have worked the same way on him, too, if only… but now it was too late for if only's and what if's.

"You should call her, you know," said Tammy all of a sudden, startling him. Her voice was unusually soft. She looked at him seriously.

"What?"

"Call her. Think about it, Cohen. She walked into this gallery, ten years after you've last seen her. What are the odds for something like that to happen? If that's not a sign from God, I don't know what is."

"I thought you didn't believe in God."

"Whether it's God or Cupid or I don't know who else might be there watching you, it's a sign. And you shouldn't ignore it. Give her a call."

"Okay. Fine. I will. I'll do it later though, we've got work to do now."

"Ay, ay Sir," she saluted him jokingly and left the small office to unlock the gallery's front doors.

* * *

He went into _Bloomingdale's_ this afternoon. He hated going in there, and he hated it even more during holidays, but he had no other choice. He was supposed to visit his mother in Scarsdale this weekend for a Chanukah family dinner and he wanted to buy her something nice. Ever since his father died couple of years back, he slowly renewed his relationship with his mother. Sure, there was always Cindy who lived down the street to keep in eye on her whenever needed, but the truth was that he missed his mom. They always got along pretty well. It was his father who disapproved everything he ever tried to be good at. But with him gone, everything seemed to be a lot easier. 

As he expected, there were tons of people in the huge department store. For some, it was just a refuge from the snow that started falling again. For others, it was a source of entertainment for their obviously bored children. Some of them, mostly men, seemed to have the same problem he had. He walked quite cluelessly among the floors for a while, pondering over what he should buy and what would be the fastest way to leave the store and go back to the gallery. It was always more crowded in the afternoon. He didn't want to leave Tammy to handle the crowds all by herself. It didn't seem fair considering the fact it was his gallery and therefore, under his responsibility. She was just nice offering to help him.

As he passed through the children's department, a certain sight caught his eye, making him to stop in his tracks. He smiled and watched as a small girl was standing on tiptoes, trying to reach a big Piglet doll that was resting on a higher shelf. She had long, beautiful, chocolate-colored curls that got to the middle of her back when her head tilted backwards, as she stretched up to get to the shelf. The doll she was trying to reach for was huge in her standards; actually, they were almost the same size, and although it wasn't on the highest shelf, it was too high for her. She didn't look more than six years old, as far as he could tell.

Not having kids of his own, children in this age were always a source of fascination for him. He loved taking pictures of them, playing in the park. They always looked so innocent and careless. He was more careful with it now, though, after that time when he nearly got himself arrested, when one hysterical mother thought him to be some kind of a pedophile or a freak.

But this little one… He was wondering what she was doing there all by herself. He looked around, looking for someone who might be her mother or father, maybe even a brother or a sister, but everyone else around were gathered in groups, and no one seemed to notice this cute little girl. She was wearing what looked like a quite expensive red woolen coat. She wasn't just a girl from the street; she was obviously well taken care of.

He didn't have a heart to just stand there and watch her struggling to reach the doll without doing anything to help her. He didn't think of what he was about to do, he just approached her. Easily reaching for the pink, funny-looking pig, he picked it up and handed it to her. She looked surprised for just a second, before the confusion in her greenish-gray eyes was replaced with a spark of happiness and gratitude.

"Merry Christmas, Mister!" she greeted him, smiling brightly. Two of her front teeth were missing, he noticed, feeling his heart melting.

"Merry Christmas," he replied, returning her smile. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Libby."

"Libby," he repeated smiling. "That's a pretty name. Nice to meet you, Libby, I'm Mark."

She giggled. "Nice to meet you!" she imitated. She was so adorable. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn't figure out of whom. Again, he wondered where were her parents. He was kind of worried about her being there alone, which he thought was weird because he only knew her for three minutes or so. "Where are your mommy and daddy, Libby? You shouldn't be here alone, they'll be worried about you."

She was about to point to some direction, probably to where her parents were, when a woman's voice was heard from somewhere behind him.

"Libby, thank God, there you are!"

He recognized that voice, he realized. He glanced at the girl again, and it suddenly dawned on him. He instantly figured whom she reminded him of.

"What did I tell you about talking to stra-"

He turned, and she stopped mid-sentence as their gazes locked. Her expression was a mixture of worry, horror and confusion as she turned her gaze from him to the child… her daughter? And back to him.

"Mark."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N- In the midst of the end-of-the-semester madness (three huge final papers, ugh,) and a slight writers-block, your reviews definitely kept me sane and smiley so keep them coming. You're awesome, I love you!**

**I'll take this opportunity to thank msgalinda, who gave me a lot of necessary info about NYC and Scarsdale! Also, I just find it necessary to tell you that the structure of this fic is gonna be alternate POV's- the odd chapters will be Maureen's, the even chapters will be Mark's.**

**I would like to dedicate the following chapter to Anthony Rapp's 2-days' visit here in Israel! Yay for us! Sometimes dreams do come true, you see… now I just gotta figure out a way to locate him before he leaves on Thursday :) **

**And lastly- Rent, the movie. In 9 days. Finally here. This kind of speaks for itself, isn't it?…**

**Thanks again guys! Enjoy! **

* * *

**Chapter 3**

It felt like the longest day, though it was hardly 1PM. She had three long, exhausting meetings that morning already, one after another. There was always plenty to do before New Years. This was the whole purpose of her going to New York, after all. When she wasn't in a meeting, she was on the phone with the San Francisco office, telling them how things were going. Her desk was full of paperwork she had to file, empty coffee mugs and some folders and documents that needed her attention. Looking at all that mess, she couldn't help but think back of Joanne. She always teased her for her never-ending work, for the long hours she used to stay in her office during an important case. It was her second home, if not the first one, at times. Now she understood what it was like for her. Now she regretted not being more patient.

Her office was on the 21st floor, and she stood by the window and looked down at the City. She had a five-minute break before she'd have to leave for a lunch meeting with the staff. From up there, everything looked so tiny, covered with snow. A make-believe city. Toy cabs and toy trees and toy people… it looked like a child's game.

She wondered what Libby was doing. She knew she could trust Robin to take her someplace nice, she just wished she could do it herself. There was so much to do in New York City, especially around Christmas time. She wanted to take her to see a show on Broadway, something that her own parents used to do long ago when she was a child. Maybe she could take couple of days off before they'd have to go back, she thought. Yeah, she definitely had to do that.

The phone on her desk beeped. "Maureen?" her secretary's voice was heard through the speaker.

She moved away from the window and picked up the phone. "Yeah, I'm here."

"I just got a message from Stan that your 4 o'clock meeting has been canceled."

"Okay. Thanks, Lynn."

"No problem."

Her last meeting for the day, canceled. She just stood there for a second, as this piece of good news quickly sank in. She looked at her messed up desk, then at her watch. She could do that tomorrow. She _would_ do that tomorrow. She'd take the afternoon off. She quickly dialed another number, and waited.

"Hello?" said the familiar voice.

"Robin, hey, it's me."

"Oh, hey!"

"Listen, how would you like an afternoon off?"

"Why? What happened?"

"My 4 o'clock thing has been canceled, so I'll be able to get there earlier today. Spend some time with my girl. How is she, by the way?"

"She's great, we just walked in. She's gonna take a nap now. Hey, didn't you want me to come over this evening too?"

"Umm, no, I don't think that will be necessary." Since she haven't heard from Mark yet, and she didn't think she would hear from him, she saw no point in making Robin stay there. She probably had things to do as well.

"You sure? I really don't mind."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Look, I gotta go, I'll be there in an hour or two, okay? Give Libby a kiss for me."

"Sure. See you later then."

"Bye, thanks Robin." She hung up, and took some folders she needed for her next meeting, but didn't leave her office just yet. She picked up her cell phone from her desk and looked at it thoughtfully. It was working just fine. Of course it did, she was just acting silly. If he didn't give her a call until now, he probably wouldn't, and that was that. It made her a little upset. She really wanted to see him again. She thought he did too, right before she left his gallery. That kiss, his invitation… it gave her hope, but she guessed he must have thought better of it. Maybe he just tried to be nice. He didn't want anything to do with her, and she didn't think she should blame him. She hurt him endlessly in the past. He probably didn't want to get into this all over again. But couldn't he notice she was different? Or maybe it wasn't as obvious as she believed?

The lunch meeting ended earlier than she expected, and she hurried back to the hotel. Mark still didn't call, but she tried not to let that bother her, or upset her. She should just forget about it. She just needed a good distraction, something that would stir her thoughts into a totally different direction.

She entered the suite quietly and located Robin immediately. She was asleep on one of the sofas in the small sitting room, with a book open in her lap. She approached her and gently tapped on her shoulder.

"Robin, wake up," she said quietly. The younger woman's eyes fluttered open, and she gazed at her, disoriented.

"Did I fall asleep?" she asked hoarsely.

"Yeah, you did."

"God, that novel does that to me, I swear."

She laughed softly and observed the cover. "Yeah, I'm not a fan of Hardy's either."

"Did you just walk in?" asked Robin, yawning.

"Yeah. Go home, get some rest."

"I will, I will, I'm going," she said while slipping into her shoes. "Libby's asleep in your room." Even though the suite had another small bedroom, Libby refused to sleep there alone. For several nights now, they shared a bed in the bigger room. She had no problem with that. There were times when it made her feel safer, to know that her little girl was right there with her. So it didn't surprise her that she was there right now.

Soon Robin was gone and the suite was quiet again. She went to the window and looked down at the city, just as she did hours ago in her office. The sounds from the street were nearly inaudible, but if she stood quiet enough she could still hear them… cars' horns, people's chatter, music from that shop or another…

A rustle from behind her shook her from her reverie. She turned to face her very sleepy daughter, who was standing in the middle of the room, clutching an old-looking teddy bear.

She smiled. "Hey, Munchkin. No hug for your mommy?"

Libby walked towards her and hugged her legs. She laughed softly and picked the girl up. "No work today, mommy?"

"Not until tomorrow. And you know what we'll do? We're gonna do some more Christmas shopping, what do you think?" They already bought a small fake tree, since they couldn't bring a real one into the hotel. They spent their first night there decorating it. It looked almost as nice as the tree they had for the last couple of years in their apartment in San Francisco. It was better than nothing.

Libby's eyes were shining with anticipation. "We go now?"

"In a bit. I'll change and we'll get you dressed up and then we'll go. Okay?"

"Can Roger come too?" she asked, motioning the teddy bear. Roger. Of all the names in the world, Libby had to choose this one to name her teddy bear. She remembered the first time she heard her calling it that, almost a year back, when she had got it for her birthday. She asked her why. Libby just shrugged and said that this was its name.

"Maybe some other time, sweetheart," she said quietly, thinking about the Roger she used to know. _He died last Christmas_. It was still too painful to take in. But she didn't want to sink into memories all over again. She had to focus on the present, on her daughter. No matter how difficult it was. "Come on."

* * *

They wandered through the streets for a while and eventually got into Bloomingdale's just as the snow resumed. They stood in the lobby of the huge department store, laughing and shaking the snowflakes off their coats. She took Libby's hand in hers as they moved from floor to floor, continuing their shopping.

Her cell phone rang just as they got to the children's department.

"Libby, wait a second, I have to answer this," she said. "Stay where I can see you, okay, sweetie?" Libby nodded, and she answered the call. Someone from the office… she couldn't quite heat him, there was too much noise all around her. She moved away absent-mindedly from where she was standing, thinking it might improve the reception, but to no avail. Eventually she hung up and turned to her right, to where she had left Libby a moment ago, only to discover that the girl was gone.

Instant panic was washing all over her. A cold feeling was quickly creeping into her veins, making her heart quicken its pace, as she looked frantically around her. Where did she go? She was here a second ago!

She was about to turn to someone for help, when she suddenly noticed a red glimpse of Libby's coat. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Thank God! Libby was standing there, near half a dozen shelves full of dolls and stuffed animals, talking to someone who stood with his back to her. She approached the girl quickly, her panic quickly replaced with a deeper sense of fear. What was she doing? She knew perfectly well that she wasn't supposed to speak with people she didn't know, especially men!

"Libby, thank God, there you are!" she called, already halfway there, but still quite far. "What did I tell you about talking to stra-"

The man her daughter was talking to turned to face her. She stopped dead on her tracks when she realized she knew him. Shit. "Mark," she whispered as soon as her gaze met his. By his expression, she could tell he had already put two and two together. He figured it out. She laughed nervously, momentarily in lose of words. "We must stop meeting like this." Then her panic came rushing back, and she looked at Libby. "Munchkin, are you okay?" she asked. The girl was obviously fine, for she was smiling brightly. She nodded.

"We were just talking," said Mark. She raised her eyes to face him. This was more than just coincidence. It was simply impossible! She still found it hard to believe she met him the previous days by complete accident after so many years, but now… "You okay?" he asked hesitantly.

"A bit shaky, thanks for this little one. I'll be fine in a minute."

"Look, I was about to call you later today…" his voice trailed off. He looked away. The sound of his voice told her that he didn't mean it. Okay, maybe he did, but he still looked so unsure. He probably hadn't yet decided whether he should.

"No, that's fine, I understand," she assured him, but couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. Did he just say that because he happened to meet her there? Or did he really mean to call her later?

"It's just… work and all, you know? I kind of lost a sense of time."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." It was awkward. Most likely that he felt that way too. What happened? They used to be friends, they used to be _lovers_, for God's sake! She didn't want it to end up that way. It was bad enough they didn't see each other for the past ten years. She didn't want to lose him again. How could she fix this? "Well, I understand that you two already met?" she asked eventually, looking down again at Libby, who nodded. "Libby, this is Mark. He's an old friend of mine." She locked her gaze with his as she said that, then returned her attention to the little girl. "Come on, be nice, say hi."

"Hi," whispered Libby, clutching her mother's coat.

"She's a little shy," she apologized. Mark smiled but said nothing. She wished she could know what was on his mind. His expression was unreadable. Someone was pulling the edge of her coat, gently yet persistently, putting at end to her attempts to decipher his expression. She looked down at Libby, who stood patiently and waited for her mother to notice her. "Yes, Libby?"

"Mommy, I want this." It was then when she noticed an enormous Piglet that her daughter now picked up from the floor. She could hardly get a hold on it. She turned her amused gaze from Libby to the doll and to Libby again, who looked at her with anticipation.

"I'll tell you what. Go over there and get a smaller one, and I promise we'll get it. Okay, baby?"

"Okay!" called Libby excitedly, already halfway to the shelves again. She watched her for a moment, and turned to face Mark again.

"She's beautiful," he said quietly, looking at Libby.

She smiled, feeling her heart melt. There were times when she was so proud of that little girl; it was usually over those smallest, meaningless things, the simplest compliment made her heart swell with emotion. "Thank you."

"How old is she?"

"She'll be five in two months." She paused and looked at him honestly. "I should have told you yesterday."

"Why didn't you?" Although his voice carried an unmistakable notion of seriousness, he didn't sound as if he was mad at her for hiding it from him. Actually, he sounded kind of curious.

"I'm not sure. I was just afraid of your reaction, I suppose." She smiled. "I should have known better."

He hesitated, and glanced at her carefully. "Is it… just the two of you?"

She knew what he wanted to know. She nodded. "Yes. Only us." Libby's return saved them from another awkward silence. She had two dolls now; smaller ones, and she held them for her to see, smiling proudly. "What you've got there, Munchkin?"

"Mommy, can we get Pooh, too?" Libby pleaded.

She glanced at Mark and caught him smiling. Just like Libby, he too was waiting for her reply. She looked at Libby again. She couldn't resist her, not when she gave her that heart-melting look. "Well, I don't know, Libby. Should we buy both?"

"Pleaaaase?" asked the girl, pouting.

"Now, I wonder who taught her to do _that_," said Mark laughing.

She shot him a glare, but couldn't hide her smile. "Sure, baby. We'll get both. But only because it's Christmas."

"So how about that dinner tonight?" asked Mark all of a sudden.

She gave him a surprised look. Just like the first time he had offered this, it came out kind of unexpectedly again. She already told Robin not to come back to the hotel that night. She planned on taking Libby to Radio City Music Hall later. It was so close to their hotel anyway. She didn't have the heart to call Robin and tell her there had been change in her plans. What if Robin had other plans already? And she promised Libby they'd spend the rest of the day together…

She looked at Mark sorrowfully. "I'm afraid we'll have to reschedule. I've already given Libby's babysitter the night off."

"I didn't mean to leave Libby out of it. I mean, I thought she could come with us. That is, if she wants to." Before she knew it, he was kneeling next to Libby, so that he was at the same eye level as her. "What do you say, Libby? You wanna go to dinner with us?" he asked softly. Libby nodded and hid behind her again. Mark stood up and smiled at her. "See? It's settled then."

"You're irresistible, aren't you?" she asked teasingly, in her former Drama Queen tone, though her heart was racing. What had just happened?

He blushed slightly and lowered his head, accidentally glancing at his watch. "I have to go back to work… I'll meet you later. Is 7 too late for her?"

"I guess we can make an exception, under the circumstances," she smiled. "We're staying in Hilton. Meet us there?"

He raised an eyebrow, but kept any comment he might have had to himself. "Sure. I'll be there a bit sooner, if I can."

"Okay. See you later then."

"Later," he smiled, a bit more comfortable, it seemed. Then he looked down at Libby, who was watching him curiously all this time, standing behind her mother. "It was nice to meet you, Libby," he said formally, making the girl giggle. Her initial shyness started to slowly disappear.

"Bye!" she said smiling, clutching her two new dolls. Mark returned her smile and turned to leave.

"We'd better go back if we want to go out to dinner later," she said, half to Libby and half to herself.

As they finally left the store, Libby talked endlessly about how Mark helped her getting the doll she wanted. She seemed to have liked him a lot, and how could she not? How could anyone not love Mark?

She smiled as she listened to her daughter's story. Sure, it was so like Mark to do such a thing, to save a damsel in distress, no matter that this specific damsel was hardly five years old. She was happy to know that at least in this aspect, he hadn't changed as much. Although she wasn't expecting this meeting so soon, she was relieved that Libby liked him so much. She wasn't really sure why, she just did. And Mark was obviously taken by her little girl, which made her feel happy as well. He seemed to know just the way to talk to her, which surprised her, because she knew he didn't have kids of his own. Whether he had it from watching his nephews or that it simply came naturally, she couldn't quite tell. He would make a great dad someday, she thought smiling. Suddenly, she couldn't wait until their next meeting, only couple of hours away.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N- Yay, chapter 4 is up! This is what I'm doing way after midnight on Friday the 13th… well technically it's already Saturday the 14th... instead of finishing up a paper for my Victorian Novel course! Inspiration just strikes me whenever it feels like it, I guess.**

**Couldn't locate Anthony Rapp by the way :( **

**As always, I'm waiting impatiently for your feedback! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 4**

"_There_ you are, Cohen!" called Tammy as he walked into the gallery. "I thought you decided to ditch me here again." He rolled his eyes at that remark. He never did that. "What took you so long?"

He was about to answer her question when he suddenly noticed something strange. Except for three people that were about to leave as well, the gallery was empty. This was quite unusual, considering the hour. "Where is everyone?" he asked, forgetting her question.

"Oh yeah. That. I think the snow just scared them back home."

Which was a good thing, as far as he was concerned. This way he could be even earlier to meet Maureen and Libby. If he was still dubious earlier that day about seeing her again, meeting Libby made these doubts quickly fade away. The fact that she was _her_ daughter made her even more adorable in his eyes. All the way back to the gallery he couldn't stop thinking about that first smile she gave him, before he even knew who she was.

There was this thing at the edge of his mind that was bugging him, though. He constantly felt as if he forgot to do something, but every time he tried to remember, a little girl with the cutest smile invaded into his thoughts.

He wondered who her father was. She said she was divorced, but he could only assume this was Libby's father. He was well familiar with her former lifestyle, and it might as well be some random guy she had a one-night stand with. Yet somehow, he knew that this wasn't the case. Even when leading such lifestyle in the past, she was never that careless. She always knew how to take care of herself. And the truth was, that it didn't really matter who Libby's father was. She loved her daughter to death. This was the one thing he was sure of, after watching the two earlier.

"Cohen, are you still with us?" Tammy's voice, somewhat irritated, snapped him back into reality. He blinked, and nodded.

"Sorry, I was-"

"-Thinking, I know," she said, winking.

He frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing!" she said innocently. "Oh, hey, what did you buy to your mom?"

"My mom?" he repeated, still unfocused. And then he realized what was the thing he forgot to do. Shit. "I forgot," he mumbled, hoping she'd miss it.

She didn't. She found that extremely funny, from some reason. "Forgot? Wasn't that the whole purpose of your leaving me here? How could you possibly go looking for a present to your mom, then forget about it?" She looked at him suspiciously.

"It was just that I met… some people… on my way, and it completely blew out of my mind."

He could sense the Horowitz-radars going into action. "Some people, huh? Is one Maureen Johnson included in those _some _people?" She had that tone. That Jewish mother tone she knew he dreaded.

"Let it go, Horowitz."

"Not a chance. I have every right to know, for this is the reason you left me to rot here with boredom and check books."

He knew there was absolutely no way to beat her. She was worse than his mom. "Fine. If this will make me less guilty in your so called imprisonment in this place, I'll tell you." He looked around again. They were alone. "I think we can lock up here earlier today. No one will come here in this snow."

"Why, you've got somewhere else to go to?" Here goes that false innocence again, he thought. He gave her a look and she shrugged.

"As a matter of fact, I do," he replied, not looking straight at her, pretending to be locking up.

"Marky!" she squealed, sounding like a 13 year old. "You've got a _date_?"

He blushed. "Shut up, Horowitz."

"Tell me everything and this is an order!"

"Fine! Just shut up for a second!" She frowned, then watched him attentively. "Yes, I met Maureen-" he started, but was soon cut off.

"I _knew_ it!" she cried triumphantly. He shot her another glare. "Sorry."

"I bumped into her in Bloomingdale's. That is, I bumped into someone she was there with."

"This is getting interesting. I thought she was alone, who was it? New boyfriend? Girlfriend?"

"Her daughter."

Something was wrong. There was a long pause. He got absolutely no comment. Unless… for the first time… Tammy was… speechless?

"I must admit I didn't see this coming," she said eventually.

"Yeah, me too."

"That… kind of changes everything, isn't it?"

"Why would it change anything?" She didn't answer, but he knew what she was thinking about. She tried to set him up with girls ever since they decided it would never work between the two of them. He sighed. "Tammy, Maureen was… is… my friend. Yeah, we had this thing in the past, but this is not going to happen again. The fact that she's a mother doesn't make her less my friend than she was before." She said nothing, but gave him that I-know-better look. Sometimes he wondered how was it possible that she had never known Collins, yet somehow she was able to master the exact same look he used to give him whenever they discussed his and Maureen's relationship. "What?"

"Nothing! So, is there a father in there too or what?"

"No, there isn't, and don't you even start with that one," he warned her.

She raised her arms defensively. "I didn't say anything! You're gonna meet her then?"

"I'm gonna meet both of them later, so the sooner we'll lock up here the better," he said, turning off the lights and opening the door for her. "You coming?"

She walked pass him out to the street, but then changed her mind and looked back at him, unusually serious. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, Cohen."

"I hope so too."

* * *

He hurried back home to shower and change before he made his way back uptown. He entered the hotel's lobby at exactly 7PM, although he thought he might get there earlier. They already waited for him there, away from the crowds and bigger groups. For a moment he just stood there, watching them. Once again, the similarity between them amazed him. While it was easy to miss when they were apart, it was almost striking when they stood next to one another. Libby looked like a miniature of her mother.

They went to a recently opened Diner. It was really nearby, only couple of minutes' walk from the Hilton. He didn't want to take them too far, because the snow was still falling quite heavily, and the hour was already kind of late for Libby, and he was afraid she would get tired. The place looked as if it was ripped out of a 50's film, and its design included red vinyl seats and a huge jukebox that played old hits.

"This place is so cute!" laughed Maureen once a young waitress left with their orders. She seemed to be a lot more comfortable around him than she was that afternoon. He started to feel more comfortable too. He knew they didn't have much time to catch up, so he decided to leave his bitterness and anger aside. Anyway, he didn't feel angry and bitter for years now, there was really no point bringing it back up. They had enough to talk about even without opening old wounds.

"So… business, huh? What is it that you do exactly?" he asked. It looked like a safe ground, and he was really interested to hear what she was doing. Thousands of other questions were whirling endlessly in his head, but he couldn't ask most of them when Libby was around.

"Advertising. I'm the manager of the publicity department of our office in San Francisco. Just got this new position last year."

"And they sent you here on Christmas? That's a bit unfair."

"Well, they do all the sum ups every year between Christmas and New Years, one year in the East Coast, then the next year in the West Coast. So this year is New York's turn… it's not like I could get away with it."

Did she try to get away with it? By the way she said it he assumed that she did, but why would she not want to come back to New York? "How long you're gonna be here?"

"Couple of days after New Years. But I'm thinking of taking couple of days off before we go back, to spend some time with this little one," she smiled, motioning Libby, who was sitting there watching him.

"How do you like New York so far, Libby?" he asked.

"It's fun," she said quietly. She sounded kind of sad though. She probably missed home.

"It's the best place to be in on Christmas," he assured her, just as the waitress set their orders on the table.

"How about you?" asked Maureen, sipping her chocolate milk shake. "I mean, ten years, huh? Time flies."

"Me? Well you know. More or less the same," he replied shortly. He hated talking about himself. He wasn't that interesting anyway, why would she want to hear about him?

"Plus some awards, couple of magazine articles and talk show interviews, international fame…"

He pretended to be looking around. "Are we still talking about me?"

She laughed. "Oh, come on Mark, I read papers. And stop being so modest, you deserve all that."

Her honesty touched his heart. He thought it was funny. Ten years ago it was she who pursued all that. The awards, the publicity, the glory. Now she didn't seem to want them for herself. "So what are you going to do on Christmas Eve?" he asked in an attempt to move the conversation away from him as possible. She must have noticed it, for she frowned slightly, but then answered his question.

"Probably stay in the hotel and watch Christmas Carol or whatever. What are you going to do?"

"I'll be in Scarsdale for the entire weekend. We have this huge dinner thing for Chanukah and everything-"

Her jaw nearly dropped. "Scarsdale? Since when you are…" her voice trailed off. She looked at him questionably.

"My father passed away couple of years ago. I thought it might do me good to start talking with my mom again."

"Did it?"

"I'd like to think that it did, but I don't know." He loved his mom, he really did, she just had that constant need to see him married and settled. Through the years, it had just gotten worse and worse. Every time he came by for a visit she had that new girl she wanted him to meet. Always the same nice, educated, boring Jewish girls that would be just like her in a couple of years.

"Mommy, how will Santa know we won't be home this year?" Libby's voice brought him back to reality.

"Because it's Santa, baby. He knows these things."

He laughed. It was so like Maureen, being so dead serious about this whole Santa nonsense they fed those poor kids. She always had that holiday spirit. He remembered she had always loved dressing up in Halloween and New Year. Of course she'd raise her daughter in the same way. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to do after all. Tradition was important.

Libby didn't look so convinced. "So he'll know where to find us?"

"Of course he will!"

"Do _you_ think he will?" she suddenly turned to him, her eyes glistening with hope.

He stared at her for a second, totally speechless. How was he supposed to respond? He was Jewish! "Well, I don't… I'm not really…" he stammered.

Maureen laughed. "Libby, Mark doesn't celebrate Christmas."

Libby gasped, as if not celebrating Christmas was some terrible crime. "Why?"

"Because he's Jewish. It means that instead of Christmas and New Years and Halloween he celebrates other things."

"No Christmas?" echoed the child, obviously horrified.

"Hey, it's not so bad. We've got other holidays."

"Like what?"

"Like Chanukah." He saw Maureen rolling her eyes, and smiled. He remembered that one time they celebrated both Christmas and Chanukah in the loft. It's been the craziest night. She and Roger wouldn't stop laughing at him. She had that sparkle in her eyes. He knew she remembered. "It's actually like Christmas, only it lasts 8 days. And each day, you get a present."

Libby's eyes grew bigger with amazement. "Really?"

"Yeah. And we light candles and do some other stuff. So you see, it's not that horrible like your mom thinks."

"Do you really get a present for each day?" asked Maureen doubtfully. "I've always thought that either you made it up so we won't pity you, or it was kind of a make up for Jewish kids because they don't have Christmas."

"We do. I mean, kids in my class always got presents for each day," he said, putting his best miserable expression on.

"Aw, poor Marky!" cooed Maureen.

"My point is, that we've got other holidays that can be just as fun as Christmas."

She looked at him skeptically. "Umm… Yeah sure, whatever you'll say, Mark."

"Mommy, I wanna celebrate Chanukah too!" said Libby.

He burst out laughing. Maureen shot him a glare, then turned her attention to Libby. "You can't celebrate Chanukah, Munchkin, because you're not Jewish."

"How can I be one?"

"Well, you have to be born one, if I'm not mistaken."

"Actually, once you mom is Jewish, which you're mom is not, Libby, then you are Jewish too," he said. He did listen at school once.

Libby's face fell. "But I want to celebrate Chanukah and get a present for each day!" she said, her lower lip trembling. Definitely Maureen's, he thought with sheer amusement.

"You know what, let's compromise. We'll celebrate Christmas, but you'll still get a present each day until it's New Years. Huh? What do you say?"

That seemed to satisfy the little girl. Her lip stopped trembling. "Okay."

* * *

They spent the next couple of hours just talking and laughing at the Diner, until Libby's head dropped on her mother's shoulder. She looked sorrowfully at Mark.

"We should get going. I've got a meeting at 8AM sharp and she's obviously worn out. I bet you gotta be in work tomorrow too."

"I do," he said, already signaling for the waitress to bring their check. From the corner of his eye he saw Maureen reaching for her bag. "What are you doing?"

"Taking out my purse. You didn't think I'd let you pay for this dinner, didn't you?"

"And why the hell not?"

She laughed. "Mark, you always were the gentleman, but come on. It's not fair, there's two of us. Let's share it." The waitress put the check on the table. They both stretched their hands to reach for it at the same time. His hand covered hers and he gave it a little squeeze. He could feel her freeze.

"Please let me pay for that dinner," he said quietly, slowly interlacing his fingers with hers.

She hesitated, but eventually sighed. "Fine. But next time it's on me."

Their hands were still joined. It felt nice. Familiar. "We'll see about that," he said, slowly letting go of her hand.

* * *

Since Libby was almost asleep, he carried her back all the way to the hotel. He followed Maureen into the suite and waited near the door as she put the girl to bed. She came back a moment later.

"Okay. She's asleep," she said. She kept her voice low, as if there was a chance to wake Libby, although she was sound asleep several doors down the hall.

"You should get some sleep too," he said gently. She was impossibly more beautiful in the dim light that came from inside the suite, illuminating her features.

"Yeah. It's been a long day."

"I had a great time. She's an amazing kid, she really is."

She smiled. "Thank you. I had a great time too. We should do this again. Just us the next time. There are things to be said," she added seriously.

Was she talking about them? About the past? About the truth behind her marriage and Libby's father? Possibly all those things. He nodded.

"Yeah. Okay, sure. I'd love to do this again."

"When are you going to Scarsdale?"

"Friday afternoon. I'll be gone until Sunday."

"So… is tomorrow evening okay?"

He thought about it for a minute. Thursday night. He didn't have any plans… well, did he ever? He nodded. "Sure. Tomorrow will be great. I'll find a place and give you a call tomorrow." This time, he knew he would. Looking at her, she seemed to know that too.

Their gazes locked, and he suddenly realized that they were standing very close to one another. She seemed as if she wanted to say something, but she didn't. Instead she just kept looking at him. There was something in her eyes. Something he recognized from so long ago and didn't think he'd ever see in her eyes again, especially not after she dumped him. But it was there, and for a second he was mesmerized by it. He didn't dare move, in fear it might go away. It felt as if the whole world had stopped existing. Before he knew what he was doing, before he could rationalize his actions or back away, he inched closer.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N- Rent, my amigos, is due. TODAY!**

**January 19th, 11 PM. Just got back from the movie theater, FINALLY watching RENT on the big screen- it was incredible. Since I'm still all hyped up, here is chapter 5. Enjoy. No day but today.**

**Oh, and rating is up to T. I don't think it will be really necessary, but just in case, we'll see how it goes. Tell me if you think it should be downrated again :)**

**Chapter 5**

It felt as if they were standing there for hours, just staring at one another. She couldn't bring herself to break the gaze. His eyes were speaking everything that his lips wouldn't. It was like she could read his mind, yet at the same time she couldn't. She was so confused. Like she experienced all that before, at some point of her life, and now it was happening all over again. It made her head reel. It started earlier, when his hand touched hers in that Diner they were sitting at. He was moving closer to her now, but didn't seem as if he noticed. Like he couldn't bring himself to break their gaze as well. If she'd make one step, just one small step forward…

She stepped back, her mind everywhere. He blinked, surprised by her sudden movement. She touched his cheek gently. "You should go," she said quietly.

His gaze was a bit unfocused, like someone who had just woke up. "Yeah. I'll call you tomorrow," he said. He took her hand, the one that was still placed on his cheek, in his, and kissed it. "Good night."

She said nothing, just watched him as he walked down the hall, until he disappeared around the corner. She closed the suite's door and leaned against it, closing her eyes.

* * *

Yesterday night's events replayed in her mind while she was sitting in the conference room, listening to one of her colleagues. They had a great time. She was glad Libby loved Mark so much. She didn't stop talking about him from the moment she woke up. It was hard not to love him, he was so amazing with her so far. He seemed to love her as well. But then there was this thing, right before he left, that kind of scared her, because she wasn't sure what it meant, if it meant anything. 

Her cell phone rang just as she stepped out of the elevator, on her way back to her office. She didn't recognize the number that was flickering in the phones' screen.

"Hello?"

"Maureen?"

Mark. She didn't think she'd hear from him so soon. She still wasn't sure what happened there, what could have happened if she wouldn't have backed away. She hoped she didn't hurt him. Of course, she had done that so many times before, but this time she actually cared. "Hey," she said, as casually as she could. She finally entered her office and closed the door.

"You sound busy."

"Not really, I just got back from a meeting."

"Oh. I guess I can call some other time-"

"No, that's fine, I'm back in my office by now," she said, cutting off his apologies. He was silent. So was she. She should say something about the other night, she knew. But then she decided against it. First she'd have to explain all that to herself, she rationalized.

"Mo, are you there?" he asked finally.

Wow. No one used that nickname for years. She smiled. "Yeah, sorry, I was- forget it." She hesitated, but then decided that she should just ask. In the worst case he'd simply turn her down or something. "Are we still on for tonight?"

"When did we say anything about canceling it?" She smiled. So Mark, pretending that everything was okay. "Is 8:30 okay?"

"Yeah. Where are we going?"

There was a short pause before he said, "Surprise." He sounded as if he was smiling.

She laughed. "Oh, don't do that to me, you know how I feel about surprises. What am I supposed to wear if it's a surprise?"

"Not your work clothes. Unless you wanna be an easy target for weird looks."

She raised her eyebrow. She had no idea what he had in mind. "Weird looks? Where are you taking me?"

He laughed softly. "You'll see. I'll be there on 8:30."

"Fine. I'll see you then."

* * *

"Why can't I go too?" protested Libby for what seemed like the hundredth time. She sat in the middle of the bed in her flannel Hello Kitty pajama, hugging her teddy bear close to her chest, and looked resentfully at her mother. 

"Because you're supposed to be sleeping by now, Munchkin. Why are you still up?"

"Want to see Mark!"

"Who is this guy anyway?" asked Robin, who had just entered the bedroom as well. "And how is it that your daughter is head over heals in love with him?"

Robin asked all those questions that morning as well, but she was running late as it was, and was unable to answer them. "He's an old friend. That's all." No, that was not all. But she didn't feel like explaining the whole story to Robin. "Anyway, he should be here soon, so what do you think? The black wool or the leather?" She was wearing a soft black cashmere sweater and her favorite blue jeans. She couldn't decide whether to wear the trench coat that she usually wore for work, or her old leather jacket. She always packed it as a just-in-case outfit, but never had a chance to actually wear it.

"The leather is hot, I'd say the leather," said Robin winking.

She rolled her eyes but wore the jacket and looked in the mirror doubtfully. "Munchkin, what do you think?"

"You look pretty, mommy!" exclaimed Libby clapping her hands together, making both women smile.

"Okay, so leather jacket it is," she said, just as a knock came on the door.

"He's here! He's here!" called Libby excitedly and launched herself out of bed.

"Libby, you can't just open a door without knowing who is on the other side. Ask 'who is it'."

"Who is it?" imitated Libby, who was standing in front of the door.

"It's Mark." His voice was muffled by the door.

"Mommy, it's Mark, can I open the door now?"

"Yes, you can," she said, a small smile curling on her lips. Libby opened the door for Mark, who had that hesitant look in his eyes. She could recognize that look from miles. But then it slowly faded as Libby's arms encircled his knees, which was the highest she could go. He laughed, a bit surprised.

"Hey little one, aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"We couldn't stop her."

"Reminds me of someone I used to know," he said, looking straight at her. She was in a loss of words for couple of seconds, and then turned her attention to Robin, who was standing at the far end of the room.

"Robin, this is Mark. Mark, Robin is Libby's babysitter."

"Nice to meet you," said Mark. He couldn't even shake her hand properly, for Libby was still all over him.

Robin laughed. "Same here. You're all Libby talks about, for the last one and a half days," she said, making him blush.

"Okay, Munchkin, you've seen Mark, now it's time for bed."

"Oh wait, I've got something for her," said Mark all of a sudden as he took something out of the inner pocket of his coat.

He got her something? She exchanged looks with Robin, and by the expression on the younger woman's face, she knew what she was thinking. Too cute to be true. "You shouldn't have-" she started to protest. Libby's eyes were shining as he gave her a small parcel, wrapped in a colorful paper. She looked at her mother hesitantly, as is she wasn't sure if she should take it. "What do we say, Libby?"

"Thank you," she whispered, suddenly shy. She slowly unwrapped her present to reveal… what was that? For a second, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Then she looked at Mark, and by that mischievous spark in his eyes she knew they weren't. She burst out laughing. It was a small, silly looking stuffed cow with a bell on its neck.

"Your mom used to love cows the last time I've seen her," said Mark.

"She still does," she said. Oh man. How could he have possibly remembered that? She totally forgot until she had seen that cow. Tomorrow would be the tenth anniversary of that protest. It looked like forever ago.

"So are you ready to go?" he asked, touching her arm slightly.

"Yeah, just a sec," she said, kneeling next to Libby, who was fascinated by her gift. "Night Munchkin, give mommy a kiss." Libby kissed her nose. She smiled. "Don't stay up for too long, okay sweetie?" she added, messing with the girl's hair a bit.

"Okay."

"Bye, Libby. Robin, it was nice meeting you," said Mark right before they left.

* * *

He led her to the subway station, and it wasn't until they got to their final destination when it finally dawned on her where he was taking her. She stared at him in disbelief as they went out of the station and into the street. She looked around her, taking in the familiar sights. It hadn't changed much, not even after all these years. 

"You come here often?" she asked as he held the door to the Life café open for her.

"Not as often as I would like to, I'm afraid," he replied. "Work's been crazy lately, especially since we got that gallery opened. But I love coming here every now and again. The owners changed couple of times. But you know, it's still the same old Life."

"Only now they actually let us in," she remarked in a whisper as they followed the waiter to a side table with a candle burning in the middle of it. He laughed.

She raised her head from the menu to look around the crowded café. Everyone seemed to be minding their own business. Christmas songs were playing softly in the background. There were no joined tables, no crazy groups to jump over those tables and celebrate life and love and their being. It was so different. For a second she could see them back then, on that night right after her protest. So many things happened that night. Roger got out of the loft for the first time in forever, Mark sold his footage of the riot, Collins fell in love, and she?

"Mo?" Her head snapped up to the sound of his voice. A waiter was standing next to their table, waiting for their orders. After he left, Mark eyed at her curiously. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm… It's just kind of weird, being back here."

"We can leave if you want," he said, a bit uncertain.

"No, I meant weird in a good sense." She looked at him and laughed softly. "I still can't believe it was your gallery. I mean, what are the odds?"

"Not very high."

"Is she your girlfriend or something?" she suddenly remembered that woman she was talking to the day before they met.

He seemed surprised by the question. "Who?"

"That woman that told me she helped a friend running the gallery. A pretty one, green eyes?"

There was this spark of recognition in his eyes, but at the same time he looked slightly confused. "Oh, Tammy? When did you… no, she's not my girlfriend, I mean, we dated couple of times but we're not… when did you meet Tammy?"

"A day before I met you." He gave her a questioning look. "It's a long story. So who is she?"

He told her about Tammy, and about some other failing relationships he had through the years. She started to realize why he hadn't got married up until then. He always put his job before everything else in his life. Then they got their orders, and he started telling her funny stories about Roger and Collins, things that happened after she went away. She laughed all the way through in the right parts, but the truth was, that it made her kind of sad. They were the kind of you-should-have-been-there stories. She knew they could have been funnier if she was a part of them, which she wasn't.

Then he started asking her questions, but they were all vague, like he didn't dare asking what he really wanted to know. And by his questions, by the questions he tried to ask the previous day too, she knew exactly what he wanted to know.

"Look Mark, that's okay. You can just ask it," she said seriously.

He looked slightly surprised. "What are you talking about?" he asked, as if he didn't know what she meant. He couldn't fool her. She saw in his eyes that he knew exactly what she meant.

"I know what you want to know. It's fine, I'm okay with it. Just ask it." She'd been through all that before, so many times, so she really didn't care anymore. Whatever his reaction would be.

He looked as if he was about to protest again, but then he changed his mind and looked at her seriously. "Did he even know her?" he asked.

She didn't know why she was surprised. Probably because she thought he wouldn't relate Libby with the story of her ex-husband, basically because the least she did tell him didn't really fit. She thought he would think Libby was an accident, the result of a one-night stand she had at some point in her life. Well, maybe he did think that, but decided to phrase his question as politely as he could.

She returned his look. "He didn't even want her. He tried to convince me to get rid of it when I first got pregnant. And when talking wasn't enough, he tried some other ways. Like pushing me down the stairs in our home, making it look like an accident," she said it as calmly as she could, although thinking about it alone made her shiver, even after all this time. "It didn't take much time before I got rid of _him_." She could never forget that night, she knew, no matter how hard she tried. And every time she watched Libby in her sleep, she thanked God again and again that her baby was okay. She was all that mattered.

Mark looked shocked to hear all that. He hesitated, as if taking it all in, then said, "It doesn't sound like you to marry someone like that in the first place," he said gently.

She smiled bitterly. How could she explain all that to him? She really believed at the time that Andy was different than the rest of them. "I loved him. At least I thought I did. And I wanted to have a family, to do something right with my life for a change. The only good thing that came out of all this shit was Libby. I don't know what I'd do without her," she said honestly. His expression remained unreadable. "I know what you're thinking. Maureen Johnson, a mother? How laughable."

Mark shook his head in protest. "That's not what I was thinking at all. You're raising her all by yourself, and you seem to be doing an incredible job. This is something people should be proud of, not laugh at."

No scorning, no accusations, not even the slightest attempt to moralize. "This is probably the nicest thing anyone ever told me about this whole issue." He smiled, a bit embarrassed it seemed. The slight blush in his cheeks gave him away. Just like old times, she thought fondly. He always knew what to say. "How do you do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Even when we were together, you always knew exactly what to say to make me feel better."

"I cared about you. I care about you now. It's not something I do, I'm just being honest."

"All you were trying to do was being that sweet guy you always were, and all I was doing was treating you like shit." Realizing this now, years after it happened, was kind of painful. Before, she never realized what he must have felt when she cheated on him, when she dumped him. "Will you even forgive me?"

He hesitated, then a slow smile appeared on his face. "I have forgiven you."

* * *

They didn't talk of anything serious after that. Especially not about what happened, or was about to happen, right before he left the previous night. It was like they had this silent agreement never to mention it. So he told her a bit about some films he did recently, and she told him about the auditions she had when she first arrived to LA, and some funny things that Libby was doing when she was younger, but that was that. It was like there was this line that both of them were really careful not to cross. 

They kept talking through dinner, on the subway and all the way to the hotel. He walked her upstairs, just as he did the night before. He waited until she opened the door.

"Do you… wanna come in?" she wasn't even sure where the question came from. He looked surprised as well, but followed her inside. The suite was quiet. Robin must have been fallen asleep. It happened once or twice before, when she worked late hours. She used to come back to the hotel and find both sleep peacefully.

"I had a really great time tonight," she said as they sat on the sofa, facing one another. She laughed when she realized that she told him the same thing the day before. "Man, I gotta stop saying that."

He laughed. "That's okay. I had a great time too."

"When are you going to Scarsdale?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. The City's gonna be a mess because it's Christmas Eve, so as soon as I'll go, the better." He paused, then asked hesitantly, "Can I call you when I come back? Maybe we can do something for New Years."

"Yeah, that'll be great." She looked into his eyes and there it was again. Just like the other night. Well, this time she wouldn't back away, she decided. Before she knew it, he was leaning closer to her, or was it she that moved closer? She wasn't sure of anything. It didn't even seem to matter. She could feel his soft, warm, breath on the skin of her neck as his lips grazed hers with the slightest touch…

"Maureen?"

Shit. Mark backed away immediately, and even though the light was dim she could tell he was blushing. Robin entered the sitting room, looking somewhat sleepy.

"Hey Robin. Sorry, did we wake you?"

"I thought I heard voices and… forget it, did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, we did. Was Libby okay?"

"Of course she was."

"I'd better go," said Mark, getting up. She stood up as well and walked him to the door.

"Bye Mark, thanks for everything."

"I'll call. Merry Christmas," he kissed her cheek softly, waved his goodbye to Robin and left.

"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything," said Robin slyly.

As a matter of fact… "No, of course not."

"Because you know, he's kind of cute. I think I want one. Where did you find him?"

"Told you, he's an old friend." Robin looked at her doubtfully. She sighed. She had to tell the poor girl _something_. "Back then when I lived here, we used to date. But then things happened… and I dumped him."

"Oh, poor thing. And now…?"

"And now," she repeated, but really didn't know how to finish. Now what?


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Wow, you are _so_ early!"

He turned his head from the computer screen to face Tammy, who had just entered the office, and looked surprised to see him there before her. "Good morning to you too, Horowitz."

She looked at him suspiciously. "How is it that you're already here? Unless you spent the night here, which I know you didn't-"

"I didn't sleep well," he said shortly, hoping she'd be satisfied with this answer, which was mostly the truth.

Who was he kidding? A slow, sly smile made its way to her lips. "Didn't sleep, huh? And what was that that you've been doing instead of sleeping, if I may ask?"

Here we go again. "Not what you have in mind, cut it out," he said dryly.

"How was your date?"

"Horowitz, for the 525,600th time, it was _not_-"

"-A date. I know, I know, because you are _just_ friends."

He ignored the mockery her voice carried. "That's right." He was glad he was going out of town in a couple of hours. He needed to be alone, away from his work, away from Tammy's inquiries, but most importantly, away from Maureen. He needed to think it through.

"When do I get to meet her?"

He stared at her in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"When do I get to meet her, that mythological ex of yours?"

He looked at her suspiciously. "Why would you want to meet her?"

"Since your mother lives too far away to approve the match."

"My mom will never approve. She's not Jewish, remember?"

Tammy let out a fake gasp. "Marky, how could you?" He rolled his eyes. "No, but seriously, I would like to meet her, to give her a fair warning about what she gets herself into."

"Well, she _does_ know that, remember?" And then he remembered something. _Is she your girlfriend or something?_ "You have met her, you know."

"When did I do that?"

"She told me she talked to you a day before we met. She said you told her to come back if she wanted to talk with the person who took the photos," he said, rolling his eyes. "Is that how you convince people to go back here when I'm gone, Horowitz?"

She didn't answer his question. She looked lost in thoughts. Then she raised her head to face him. "Wait a second… I _do_ remember her! Dark, brown hair? Beautiful eyes? She wore a business suit, looked expensive."

"That sounds pretty much like her."

"Whoa!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Cohen, that she is gorgeous! Which makes me wonder again why-"

"-Not funny, Horowitz, let it go. Look, I've got some work to finish here before I leave for Scarsdale-"

"Yeah, got it, I'm gone. But you'll have to tell me what happened there sooner or later. You realize that, right?"

"First, I'll have to tell that to myself."

Wrong thing to say. She smiled victoriously. "So something _did_ happen!"

"No! Ugh, forget it!"

* * *

Tried as she might to get information out of him, he didn't tell Tammy a single thing. He left the gallery to rent a car right after lunch, and a couple of hours later he was on his way to Scarsdale. Traffic was as horrible as he expected. He sat in the car, whistling the song that was playing on the radio. He didn't even try to sing along, he was too awful at that. He was staring absent-mindedly at the car in front of him. Two kids who were sitting in the back seat of that car suddenly noticed him, and started making weird faces at him. Ugh. He hated when they did that. He stuck his tongue at them and looked away. His thoughts soon drifted to the night before.

Of course, he didn't tell Tammy how yesterday night could have ended, unless Robin entered the scene. Would it have ended that way? She might have backed away, like she did before, but somehow he got the feeling that she wouldn't. What did that mean, though? Everything was happening so fast, and it seemed like it was totally out of his control. There was this old feeling rushing back, and although he remembered it from before, it had a slightly different essence now. But did she feel it too? Did she even feel it back then when she cheated on his endlessly and eventually dumped him?

And whatever would happen, it wasn't that simple. She lived too far away now. He had never believed in long distance relationships. And of course, there was Libby. He loved that little girl, but was he ready to be a father? And then he realized what he was thinking and wanted to kick himself. He was thinking _way_ too far ahead. There was no relationship to talk about for one thing, and what if it was all in his head? What if Maureen didn't feel all that? What if she just enjoyed spending time with him after all these years apart? What if they _were_ 'just friends' as far as she was concerned?

* * *

Two teenagers were playing one-on-one basketball as he pulled into the driveway of the small two-story house. They stopped playing the moment they spotted him and started waving enthusiastically at him.

"Hey mom! Uncle Mark is here!" they shouted towards the kitchen window. He smiled and parked the car.

"Josh, Michael, please don't shout!" a woman's voice called back from the kitchen, and seconds later Cindy went out from the back door. Her face lightened when she saw her younger brother getting out of the car. "Mark! Finally! What took you so long?" she asked, kissing his cheek.

"Christmas traffic. How are you guys?"

"Are you kidding? No school for them, they couldn't be happier," Cindy rolled her eyes. The twins Josh and Michael were 15. Their younger sister Natalie was 9. They all grew up so fast, it was amazing watching it happen. This made him think of Libby instantly. Would she, too, grow up so fast before he'd notice? And then his thoughts shifted from the daughter to her mother, and the choir of what if's started all over again. Like he didn't have enough of that when he was stuck on the road.

"Mark?" He blinked as his sister's voice invaded his thoughts. "You're coming inside? It's freezing here."

"Yeah, sure," he said, taking his small backpack and following Cindy and the boys inside.

* * *

For the first half an hour, he thought that it would be a quiet, peaceful dinner. That is, until his mother suddenly looked at him thoughtfully. "Mark, do you remember Sheila Goldberg?"

Oh, here we go, he thought. He laid his fork on the table and glared at Cindy, who was sitting across from him. She just shrugged, as if to say she had nothing to do with it. Yeah, right. "Umm… no, mom, I don't remember."

"You went to high-school with her, don't you remember? Her father used to work in dad's clinic." He shook his head. "Well, anyway. She is in town, visiting her parents for Chanukah. I thought you could get back together, you know, to speak of old times," she finished, winking. She had that annoying, brilliant smile, as if it was the greatest idea.

He groaned. Stay calm, he restrained himself. "Mom, please, didn't we discuss this before? I told you I do not need you to find me a bride, I can take care of myself." Josh and Michael were grinning. Oh, just you wait 3 more years, he thought bitterly, shooting them a glare.

"Now, now, Mark, there is no need for you to get so agitated, I'm only doing it for your own good. Do you remember Jerry? The guy that was in the science club with you in tenth grade? We just got an invitation for the Bris of his third son. Third, Mark."

"Yeah, mom, I got it." Man, why wouldn't she just leave it? So what if his childhood friends were all settled. Did that mean he had to be just like them? He was happy with his life the way they were.

"Well, I've already invited the Goldbergs for lunch tomorrow."

Shit. "Mom… I'm kind of seeing someone, in New York." He didn't even plan on telling her so soon. Mostly because there was really nothing to tell. It wasn't even dating. He hated using Maureen as an excuse, but he didn't have much choice.

His mother's eyes brightened. "Oh? Well, you should have brought her here, to know the family! Who is she? What does she do? Did you meet her parents? What do they do?"

Double shit. "I've only met her couple of times. I haven't met her parents yet." He thought better of telling her that it was Maureen. He knew exactly what she thought of her. His mother would have hated Maureen even if she _was_ Jewish. He still cringed at the thought of the way both his parent treated her in that first and only dinner the two of them ever had in Scarsdale. And now, it was even worse. He didn't even want to think about his mother's reaction for Maureen's being a single mom, not to mention the fact that she was divorced. God forbid.

"At least tell us her name," she insisted, looking at him urgently.

"Her name? Uh… I'd really rather not talking about this…" he said, looking desperately at Cindy. She seemed to notice his distress, for she started talking about Natalie's birthday party, that was only two weeks away.

He leaned back in his seat, relieved. This was a close one. He ignored Cindy's questioning looks and started talking with Josh, who was sitting next to him.

* * *

The rest of the evening was peaceful enough thanks to Cindy, who kept his mother well distracted from the issue of finding him a future wife. Whenever she would start talking about the Goldbergs or whatnot, Cindy would start talking about something else. If it wouldn't have caused him to feel so pathetic, it was almost amusing.

They lit Chanukah candles and sang some Chanukah songs. Since he had his camera with him, he filmed around a bit. At some point, his mother and Cindy went into the kitchen, to wash the dishes from dinner. They insisted they didn't need his help so he wandered back to the living room. Cindy's husband and the kids had just started watching a film he saw the week before, so he excused himself and entered what used to be his father's study. Ah, peace and quiet at last, he thought as he closed the heavy wooden door behind him.

He switched the lights on and looked around with a frown. He never liked getting into this room. Just like his father, it was cold and gloomy. The huge red-wine drapes that hung on the window completely blocked the light from the outside, making the room impossibly gloomier. The walls were covered with shelves that contained hundreds of books in expensive leather covers. There was a leather couch along one wall, and two chairs near a huge desk, where he spotted what he was looking for. He sat with his back to the closed door and reached for the phone.

"Hello?" He shivered involuntarily. She always had that husky, seductive tone when she answered the phone. Unless… He glanced at his watch. It was 10PM. What were you thinking, you jerk?

"Shit, did I wake you?"

She laughed softly. "Mark, hey. No, I'm in bed, but I wasn't sleeping." He wasn't sure whether to believe her or not. She sounded tired. "How was dinner?"

He sighed. "Oh, you know. My mom was doing her Yente the Matchmaker role again. But other than that it was okay, I guess. How was yours?"

"Fine. We actually went out, which was kind of unplanned, but it stopped snowing, and Libby was bored. It was fun." Then she paused, and laughed. "Yente the Matchmaker?"

"Yeah. The Jewish Mother Syndrome. It bothers her that I'm 35 and single, so she tries to set me up with nice, Jewish girls from Scarsdale."

"Then make it stop. Find someone nice and marry her," she said playfully.

"You know any nice girls?" he teased, playing along.

"Most likely. When you come to think about it, I probably dated more girls in New York than you ever did."

He laughed, feeling his distress slowly fading away. "Oooh, that one hurt, Mo."

"Well, actually I do know this one girl, but she's not Jewish."

He froze. Somehow, he got the feeling that she wasn't playing anymore. She didn't mean what he thought she meant, didn't she? "You know, it's my mom who has this religion obsession," he said slowly, carefully picking his words. "I don't really mind whether she'll be Jewish or not."

"I know. I just keep thinking that she's not good enough for you," her tone became serious.

He held the receiver close to his ear until his knuckles turned white. He could almost hear his heart pounding. How was he supposed to answer?

"Libby really misses you, you know," she said all of a sudden, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "She didn't stop talking about you the entire evening. She loves that cow you brought her."

"I'm glad," he smiled. Yeah, talking about Libby instead of about them was a safe ground. He missed her too. "Any chance that she's awake?"

"She was, half an hour ago."

"Damn. I should have called sooner."

"Oh, so I'm not the reason you called here in the first place, Mr. Cohen, is that it?" Here goes that seductive tone again, he thought.

"Well, she _is_ younger," he teased.

"Ha, ha," she said. "You should go spend time with your family. Isn't that the reason you went there?"

"Yeah, you're probably right," he said reluctantly.

"Give me a call when you're back in town, okay?"

"I might do that even before, I'll need to hear a friendly voice after lunch tomorrow. My mom invited this… Oh, forget it. I don't want to keep you awake."

"Good night."

"Bye, I'll call tomorrow."

"Okay." She paused. "Mark?"

"Yeah?"

It felt like she wanted to tell him something, but instead there was this long pause. For a moment, he thought that she wasn't there. "Never mind. Merry Christmas," she said eventually.

"Merry Christmas," he replied quietly. He didn't put the receiver on its hook even after he heard the dial tone. What was that all about?

"Mark?"

He turned around abruptly to find Cindy standing on the threshold. Shit. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked, suddenly panicked. How much did she hear?

"Couple of minutes," she said, entering the room and closing the door. She sat in the chair next to him and gave him a serious look. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"Who were you talking so secretly?"

"No one you know," he said, avoiding eye contact. Please let it go, he thought.

"Was it this woman you're seeing? I thought you were making it up to get away from mom."

"Well, not exactly. I mean I'm not exactly dating her, it's… complicated."

"Complicated how?" she asked, and then went pale all of a sudden. "You didn't do anything stupid like getting someone pregnant, didn't you?" she looked horrified at the thought. Well, she was more like mom than she realized, he thought bitterly.

"No, of course not, I would never!" he assured her. "It's nothing like that, Cindy, don't worry." He knew she'd understand if he told her the truth, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He wanted to try solving this himself first. He was also kind of afraid she'd tell something to their mother. And then… he didn't even want to think about it. He stood up. "I think I'm gonna go to bed. Will you be here for lunch tomorrow?"

"Sure. I'd give anything to see you get embarrassed again," she teased. She stood up as well and pulled him into a hug. "I just hope you know what you're doing, Mark."

"I'll be fine," he promised. He slowly let go, and left the room.

* * *

Once in his old room, he quickly got ready for bed and got under the covers. He knew there was absolutely no way to get away from meeting this Sheila Goldberg the next day. His mother wouldn't let it go, not even after he told her he was seeing someone. Tammy would laugh so hard when he'd tell her about all this, he thought bitterly.

He tossed and turned, but couldn't fall asleep. He heard Cindy and her family when they left. He heard his mother going upstairs. She stopped in front of his door, as if wondering whether or not to check on him, but eventually she decided against it as her steps echoed down the hall.

Everything went quiet, except for sounds from the street. Every now and again a car would pass by. Two cats were talking to each other in some unfamiliar cat language. God, he hated those nights when he couldn't sleep. Usually, it happened when he had too much on his mind. And tonight, it was her voice he couldn't stop thinking about. He couldn't stop trying to interpret what she told him on the phone. Of course, it was easier to admit all that when they weren't facing one another, but did she really mean that? It felt as if she _was_ talking about herself, but what if he was making a huge, stupid mistake simply because he wanted her back?

Wait a minute… Who said he wanted her back?

Sure, there were millions of times in the past in which he did, but he thought he was over that time. Especially after she left them. Yet somehow now, as she got back, it was like those ten years never existed. Like she had never left, like he had never hated her for leaving. He loved spending time with her. She was her old self, but at the same time she wasn't. And he loved the change she went through. And Libby… although he had only known her for several days, he loved that little girl as if she was his own.

_I just keep thinking that she's not good enough for you._

How could she possibly think that? Didn't she know how much she meant to him back then when they were together? And right now? Of course she was good enough for him, no one was better! Well, he'd simply have to prove her wrong on that one. And once he got to that decision, he drifted off to a peaceful, dreamless slumber.

* * *

**A/N- sorry the ending is a bit lame, you guys. next chapter is New Years so wait for it. and umm... review? you know you want to!**


	7. Chapter 7

**By a special request, Roger the bear is back in the story :)**

**Chapter 7**

"Never mind. Merry Christmas," she said quietly. Her cell phone felt so heavy as she put it down on the nightstand. She leaned back on the pillows with a sigh. What were you thinking, she scolded herself. Only thinking about what she was about to tell him made her feel like a complete fool. So she missed him. What's the big deal? They spent a lot of time together in the passing few days, it was only natural that she did.

But it was more than that. Much more. After Libby fell asleep that night she just sat in bed, staring absent-mindedly at the TV screen. She couldn't stop thinking about him, about them. She was about to leave the week after New Years. And it suddenly dawned on her that they'd have only two more weeks to spend together. Realizing it hurt, more than she thought it would. It was more than saying goodbye to an old friend because it was clear to her that Mark was much more than that. And this got her to a much scarier realization. She didn't want to be 'just friends.' She wanted to be with him.

She was so confused because she had no idea how he felt about all this. Sure, she had a pretty good guess from two nights ago, and the night before, but it could have been only in her head, because she wanted to believe it.

She was realistic though. There was no way she could just break this to him, not after everything she put him through. She really wasn't good enough for him. And even if he did feel the same, he lived too far away. She never believed in long distance relationships. Sure, he got along with Libby really well, but still. It would never work. He would never leave New York. He belonged there. His soul belonged there. And she could never leave San Francisco. It was just never meant to be.

* * *

Once Christmas was over, she went back to the familiar routine of staff meetings and spending long hours in the office. It actually helped. She didn't have time to think about the mess her life became in the passing couple of days. She was absorbed in her work, in the need to stay focused and alert, and it kept her well occupied, but most importantly, well distracted. She hardly had time to spend with Libby, which made her kind of upset, but she managed to get four days off before their flight back to San Francisco. Whenever work got too stressful, it was enough in the thinking of those four days to keep her smiling for the rest of the day. 

Mark hadn't called for couple of days, but she was actually okay with it. She had to stay away from him for a while. She needed to think it through. Finally, one afternoon, he called and asked her and Libby for a New Year dinner in his apartment. They didn't have other plans, and she thought it could be fun. Libby really wanted to see him again too, and how could she possibly refuse her little girl?

Her jaw nearly dropped when he gave her directions. She knew New York like the palm of her hand, and the area he had just described was pretty good. Pretty damn good actually. No more a shabby loft near the Tent City. He lived in a beautiful apartment building. It was 4 stories high, and the forth floor, where she knew he lived, seemed to be the biggest. Libby seemed impressed by the building as well.

"He lives _here_?" she asked in amazement as they were looking at the building from the outside.

"Seems so. Wanna go check it out?" Libby nodded and they entered the building. A nice middle-aged doorman opened the door for them. Mark had probably told him before he was expecting them, for he didn't ask questions as for who they were, he just smiled politely and lead them to the elevator. It got them straight to Mark's apartment, which made her realize that he probably had the whole floor for himself. Wow.

"Hello? Anyone home?" she called as they stepped out of the elevator and into the apartment. Libby was soon to follow.

"Hey, I'll be right with you guys!" Mark's voice called back from one of the rooms down the hall.

She took this opportunity to look around. He said he lived there for couple of months, but it definitely looked as if he had moved in last week. There were boxes everywhere. The living room area, where they were standing at the moment, looked as big as their entire apartment in San Francisco. It opened to a porch, but the sliding door that led to it was closed as if to keep the cold outside. There was only one picture on the wall, above the TV. She knew it, she realized. He took it years ago, from the roof of the loft. He used to go up there each morning for almost two months, trying to capture the perfect sunrise. He said he had always wanted to do that, and no place was better for it than the roof. The day he had finally caught it was the day April killed herself.

Mark joined them as she helped Libby out of her coat. "Hey, found it alright?" he asked smiling, kissing her cheek and picking Libby up once she was coat-free. She giggled as he kissed her cheek as well.

"Yeah, no problem. Beautiful place you've got here, Mark. I like the… uh… ready to run away style," she said, looking at the boxes all over the floor.

He laughed. "Oh this? It was worse; I actually started unpacking when I got back from Scarsdale. Not enough time."

"There's never enough time."

"I don't even use all the rooms in this place. I swear, I've got at least three spare rooms. How many closets a guy needs?"

"You'll be amazed."

"Oh, yeah. For a second I forgot with whom I was talking," he said, rolling her eyes.

Libby, who was still in Mark's arms, was pulling the collar of his shirt. He looked at her smiling. "What is it, Libby?"

"Roger didn't get a kiss," she stated, dead serious.

He just looked at her dumbfounded, but definitely amused. "I'm sorry, who?"

"Roger!" she said, holding her teddy bear in front of her for him to see.

"Oh! His name's Roger, huh? That's a very cool name. Was it your mom's idea?" he asked, glaring at her, but with a clear spark of humor in his eyes.

"No, this is his name!"

"Okay."

"Come on, Marky, give Roger a kiss," she said teasingly, and Libby nodded her agreement. He frowned at her slightly, but then smiled at Libby and gave the bear a quick kiss on his forehead.

"There. Is he happy now?"

"Very!" said Libby with a huge smile as Mark put her down.

"I hope you're hungry," he said. It was then when she realized that something smelled really good. Did he cook? She must have had that look, because he gave her a look and said, "_Yes_, I know how to cook, I learned the hard way."

"What, I didn't say anything!" she laughed defensively. "Well, as long as it's not some weird, Polish food-"

"Oh, aren't you a sweetheart," he shot back. She shrugged. One Friday dinner at the Cohen residence was enough. "Will pasta and meatballs do?"

She smiled. "That's Libby's favorite. Isn't it, Munchkin?" Libby nodded. "But I'm the master of pasta and meatballs, Mark, you have no chance against me."

"We'll have to see about that someday, right?" he said, leading them to the other end of the living room, where a small table was already set for three.

* * *

It turned out that he was almost as good as her in making pasta. Libby confirmed it, but she admitted with a shy smile that mommy made it better. Sure, she was flattered by her daughter's loyalty to her cooking, but she was too unfocused to get really excited by that. She looked at Mark attentively whenever he didn't notice. He was so amazing with Libby. They laughed and talked as if he had known her all her life, and she obviously adored him. _And_ he could cook. But then she reminded herself to go back to reality. It was never meant to be. 

After dinner, they moved back to the couch and turned the TV on, waiting for the live broadcast from Times Square. It was pretty late for Libby, but she stated she wanted to wait for the countdown at midnight. It was three hours away. Mark brought an ancient Monopoly game he brought with him from Scarsdale, and they passed the next couple of hours playing, she and Libby against him. He was losing miserably, but they didn't really care. It was fun. They had cookies for desert, along with milk for Libby, and champagne for the two of them, that he suddenly brought out of nowhere. She didn't object. It was New Year, after all.

At one point, Libby had lost interest at their game, and it was down to the two of them. It was not long afterwards when they turned their head to see her fast asleep, curling on the armchair Mark was leaning against, clutching her teddy bear. Mark smiled as he turned to look at her, and gently brushed the curls from her face. She sat across from them and smiled fondly at the picture they made. He turned from Libby to her, and smiled.

"Wanna go outside?" he whispered, motioning the porch. She nodded, and helped him to move Libby to the couch so she'd be more comfortable. After putting the TV on mute and slipping into their coats, they went outside.

It was eleven thirty. The air was cold but it didn't snow. The starts were sparkling brightly in the cloudless sky. She looked down. In the daylight he might have had a great view to the park from here, she thought. His neighbors were having a party. The sounds of loud music and people's voices were clearly heard against the silence of the night.

"So. New Year resolutions?" asked Mark, leaning on the banister.

She sighed. The answer to this question seemed to be more complicated with each passing year. "Just to be better, I guess. And happier. To be a good mother." Then something occurred to her and she turned to look at him seriously. "There's another thing, but I kind of need your help for it."

He looked at her curiously. "What is it?"

"I realized… that I didn't have a chance to say goodbye," she said quietly. She didn't say their names, but by the look in his eyes she knew he understood. She needed to see them. "Will you take me there, before I'll go home?"

He seemed moved by her request. Then he slowly nodded. "Of course."

"I wish I was here to do this earlier," she whispered, looking away. Tears were stinging in the corners of her eyes, but she couldn't cry. She didn't want to. It was just that she missed them so much. She remembered that New Year eleven years ago when everything was still okay. That New Year when they still had Angel. She should have stayed, she scorned herself. She shouldn't have run away.

"Hey…" he murmured, moving closer and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "Stop this. It's in the past. You did what you thought was right."

"How is it that whenever I feel something is right, it's not?" She didn't even realize she was feeling that until the question was out in the open.

"Libby was right."

He did it again. It was just the right thing to say. She smiled. "You are absolutely amazing, do you know that?"

He smiled sheepishly, obviously remembering that conversation from the week before. "I didn't do anything."

"Yeah you did. Probably more than you'll even realize," she said, laying her head on his shoulder. He didn't try to back away. It felt right. "I'll really miss you when we'll go back."

"I'll miss you too. I'll miss both of you actually. You'll have to tell me when is Libby's birthday exactly so I'll know when to send her something. She'll be five, right?"

"Yeah. On February 4th." She felt him tense, and raised her head from his shoulder. He looked stunned, slightly pale even. What did she say? "What?"

He seemed to have hard time answering this. "February 4th, almost five years ago… is exactly the day Collins passed away," his voice wasn't higher than a whisper.

She just stared at him as this new information slowly sank in. She instantly realized what he was thinking. It was an amazing coincidence, if you believed in it. Somehow, she knew she just had to believe. _A leap of faith_…

She was about to say something when the loud voices from the party downstairs became impossibly louder. This meant only one thing. It was almost midnight.

"10-9-8-7…" the people downstairs yelled the seconds drunkenly. They looked at one another, amused. "…3-2-1- HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Amazing fireworks exploded over the City that never slept, mingling above with the starlight. The music downstairs resumed, louder than before. People were singing and laughing and greeting each other. She turned her gaze from the fireworks to Mark and caught him looking at her. He smiled and moved closer.

"Happy new year," he whispered before he leaned down to kiss her. It was hardly a real kiss; his lips had hardly even touched hers, but for a moment, she felt like the fireworks were exploding inside her head, not in the sky.

Pretty soon afterwards he pulled away, but he was still standing close to her. She opened her eyes to meet his gaze. By what she had seen in his eyes, she knew that he felt that too. Slowly, hesitantly, she raised her hand to touch his face. She tracked her finger along his cheek, and he followed her with his eyes as if hypnotized.

Before she knew it, they were kissing again. She wasn't even sure who started it that time. She didn't care. It answered all her questions. There was no one to barge in on them, no doubts, no hesitations. Just him and her and the moonlight. His arms tightened around her as their kiss deepened. It became more passionate and urgent with each passing second. She struggled to take off his coat, her coat, whatever. He laughed into the kiss when he realized what she was trying to do. He pulled away reluctantly.

"We need to talk about this," he said, breathing heavily, but didn't sound as if he meant it. It was more as if it just had to be said.

"Do we?" she asked seriously. Their gazes locked. There laid her answer. The ultimate truth. They didn't.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly.

"I told you I wanted to do something right with my life for a change. Maybe this is it," she touched his lower lip gently before she pulled his head down for another kiss. He put his hands on both sides of her face, deepening the kiss, but then quickly pulled away. She looked at him breathless and slightly confused. Why did he stop? Did he realize this was wrong? For a second she believed that he did and felt like the biggest idiot in the world, but soon realized her mistake when he smiled and took her hand. No word had passed between them that night as he led her back inside the apartment and down the dark hall.

**

* * *

A/N- ****so,** **at first I wanted Libby's birthday to be February 8th, which is my birthday, but then I remembered that Jonathan Larson's birthday was supposed to be on the forth, and since there would have been no Mark and Maureen without him, I thought it would be more appropriate. Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are most welcome :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N- just so you'll know, this chapter was a _hell_ to write! Too much free time rots my mind. All those scenes and ideas were swimming all over my head but refused to arrange themselves together in a logical sequence. I tried my best. Reviews will sure make me feel better about this chapter (winks) Chapter 9 is on its way so wait for it!**

**Chapter 8**

His bed was empty when he woke up the next morning. Once he got to this realization he sat up and looked around the room. His clothes were still scattered all over the floor, but that was it. He looked at the bed again. The pillow next to him seemed like it had been slept on, but… Where was she? His mind was still blurred from sleep, but he remembered as much. He remembered the way the other night ended. But now he thought that maybe he was making it up, maybe he had too much champagne, maybe he just wanted to believe it happened, maybe…

Maybe nothing. She was there, and now she wasn't.

Confused, he put on his glasses and got out of bed. It's not that he was bitter or disappointed about this. He wasn't even angry. It was just weird. Running away like this as if last night meant nothing was something that the old Maureen might have done, but not this one. She must have had a good reason. After a quick shower, he stepped into the living room, and there she was, now fully clothed, leaning against the couch Libby was still sleeping on. Her eyes were closed. She seemed to be asleep. How long had she been sitting here? And why? He walked over to her and knelt beside her. He touched her cheek gently and her eyes fluttered open.

"Mark… what time is it?" she sounded tired, but she managed a small smile.

"A bit after 7," he answered, then added hesitantly, "What are you doing here?" He didn't mean to sound accusing. He just had to know. He had to make sure she didn't regret it.

She ran a hand through his still damp hair. "It's not what you think. I just… wanted to be here when she wakes up." She glanced at Libby, then turned back to him and looked at him seriously. "We need to talk about this."

"Oh wait, isn't it supposed to be my line?" She laughed. This seemed to break the ice a bit. He took her hand in his and gave it a little squeeze. "I'll make some coffee and we'll talk, okay?"

"Yeah. That'll be great," she smiled and leaned over to kiss him. "I'll make it up to you… promise…" she murmured into his ear once they broke apart.

"I'm looking forward to that," he whispered and looked at her teasingly. By her expression, he could tell she wasn't expecting him to say this. He couldn't believe his eyes. Did he just make Maureen Johnson, the former drama queen of Avenue A, blush? Wow. He smiled and got up to get them some coffee.

She was waiting for him on the porch, on a small sofa he had there. They just sat there for a while, silently sipping their coffee and watching the city as it slowly woke up. There were few people on the street, probably going back from late New Year parties. It was so early it was even possible to hear the birds sing. This was strange. He couldn't remember a time when he heard birds singing in New York.

"I think I owe you an apology," she said all of a sudden, shaking him out of his reverie. "I didn't want Libby to wake up alone and not remember where she was. And I didn't want to risk that if it happened, she'd somehow find her way to your bedroom and walk in on us." He nodded. It made sense. He didn't think he could handle the little girl's enquiring if she did that. From the short time he had known Libby so far, one thing was clear to him. She was hard to fool at. Like mother like daughter. "You see, for so long, it has been just the two of us. Ever since Libby… well, you know how it is. Men don't usually go for the single mom type."

"They don't know what they're missing," he smiled.

She returned his smile, flattered it seemed. "Anyway, she loves you. I know she does. But all this is going to be new for her. I just didn't want her to freak out. Or get traumatized. Or something."

He nodded again. He would probably do the same if Libby was his kid. "That's okay. I understand." He hesitated, but then felt that he had to ask. "Did she… ever ask you about where her father was?"

"She did. God, I had no idea how to handle this. I mean, I was preparing to this moment almost ever since she was born. I knew I owed her an explanation, so I thought it was best to start planning this explanation, the sooner the better. She was about three when it finally came up, and no matter what I had in mind, I completely forgot it all once she asked me. She wasn't even in a kindergarten yet, but there were some girls she used to play with in the park and… you know. Kids notice these stuff. So one night right before she went to bed, she asked me."

"What did you tell her?"

"Well, obviously not the truth. How can you tell your three-year-old that her father didn't want her? I told her that he was gone, that he lived far away, and that he might not come back." She laid her coffee mug on a small table. "She still asks about him, but not as often as before. This is what scares me the most when she'll start school. I hate thinking what is going to happen if one of the kids will start teasing her about not having a father. I don't want her to get hurt because of my stupid mistakes. I don't want her to ever get hurt."

Listening to her, he realized that her change was greater than he thought. When he knew her before, it was all about her, every time. He smiled in spite of himself. Who ever thought of Maureen Johnson as a protective mom? If someone had suggested it to him ten years ago, he would have probably laughed at that someone's face.

"We really need to work things out though. Before I tell her anything," she added. She had that hesitant look. He took her hand. She looked at him seriously, almost desperately. "How the hell are we going to do this?"

Yeah, he thought about this one a lot. He still wasn't sure he had the right answer. "I can move to San Francisco, I guess," he said slowly. It would be a tough sacrifice, but he was willing to do it for them. He made himself a fine reputation in the passing few years. He could easily find jobs there, maybe open another gallery. That could work.

She shook her head. "No. No, you can't leave New York. Your work is here, and your friends, everything. I don't want you to give up all that." There it was again. This unfamiliar concern for anyone but her. It made him feel weird. He'd just have to get used to it, he figured. "Libby won't start school until next year, so it's not supposed to be a problem. I can't quit my job though."

"I don't want you to quit your job." According to what he had figured so far, she liked her job. She was good at it. He didn't want her to give it up.

There was a bit of silence, as if she was thinking it over again. He did too. He could go there every weekend, maybe every other weekend if things would be really tough. And she and Libby could too, if Maureen's job would allow her to do that. It was only several hours away by plane. But he didn't want to have them only for several days. He wanted to be with them always.

"Shit," she whispered after a while. "There's no way, right?"

Don't give up on that, he thought. He couldn't give it up. "We'll figure it out. Don't think about it now," he said, wrapping his arms around her. She closed her eyes and laid her head on his chest. They stayed like this for a while. It was chilly but he didn't care. He always loved these hours of the day, before the city got back to its usual tumult of crowds and car horns and other kinds of noise that could freak anyone out.

"What are you doing?"

He opened his eyes. He didn't even realize he closed them. They were lying on the small sofa, Maureen's head still against his chest. His arms were still wrapped around her. She opened her eyes as well, looking a bit disoriented. They fell asleep? He couldn't even remember how long they were sitting there. They both raised their heads, startled, to look at Libby, who was suddenly out on the porch, looking at them curiously.

"Your mommy was a bit cold," he improvised, and felt really proud as Libby slowly nodded, as if his explanation made sense. "And I guess we fell asleep."

"Come here, Munchkin," said Maureen as they sat up, gently pulling Libby's arm so she would sit in her lap. She held Libby, and he still held her. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yes," the girl nodded. His heart melted. How could anyone resist her?

"So what do you wanna do today?" he asked. He didn't want this to end. He wanted to spend as much time with them as he could. Maybe he'd think of something. He had to think of something. He didn't want to let them go, ever. Not until he got her back.

"Want to go ice-skating."

"Ice-skating? I thought Robin took you ice-skating couple of days ago!"

"Want to go with you."

He looked at Libby and instantly knew what he wanted to do. He was surprised it didn't occur to him before. "Did Robin take you to Central Park, Libby?"

"No."

"So I'll tell you what. We'll make some breakfast, then we'll go over to the park, and we could go ice-skating this afternoon, how does that sound?"

Maureen looked at him skeptically. "Do you really have the whole day? Don't you have to be in the gallery today?"

"I'll call in sick," he said jokingly, then shook his head. "No, we didn't intend to open it today. It's New Year, no one will come anyway. So what do you guys want for breakfast?"

* * *

They made breakfast together. Libby asked for pancakes, so they spent some time getting everything ready. They let her help too. For a moment, just like dinner the day before, it felt as if the three of them were a real family. It suddenly made him realize how much he longed for this to be real. He tried to repress any thought about this, at least until they'd find a way to make this work, but no solution seemed possible at the moment. 

He raised his head from his plate and caught Maureen's eyes. By her expression, he guessed she was thinking the same thing. He smiled at her sorrowfully. They gotta find a way.

* * *

After breakfast, he told them to wait for him in the living room. He went into the room where he kept all his filming equipment. He still kept his old reels, although there was no use in them anymore. Couple of years back, with Roger's encouragement, he converted everything he had on these reels into video tapes, once he could afford the right equipment for it. They sat for hours, watching scenes from their past, people and places they haven't seen for years. They both cried as the familiar memories flashed on the TV screen. He smiled sadly as he remembered this long week were they did most of this work. He was glad Roger had the chance to watch it all again before his death. He wished Roger could see Maureen again, and meet Libby, her teddy bear with whom he shared a name... He would have loved her. 

He grabbed one tape and went back to the living room, where Maureen and Libby were still waiting.

"Hey, what you've got there?" asked Maureen as he turned the TV on.

"Surprise," he said, smiling mysteriously, as he shoved the tape into the video.

"You and your surprises," she frowned and moved a bit, so that he could sit on the couch as well.

"We watch a movie?" asked Libby curiously. She was sitting between them, her teddy bear in her lap.

"Yeah, we're gonna watch a movie," he said, pressing the play. The picture cleared in a second, revealing Angel in her Santa coat, doing a little drum show for the camera. He heard Maureen gasp and turned to look at her. She didn't look back. She didn't remove her eyes from the screen as the scene replaced, and it was now Roger with Mimi, on the roof of the loft… Collins in a middle of a wild laughter… Joanne and her sharing one peaceful moment…

"Mommy, who is this woman?" asked Libby all of a sudden.

"She's an old friend of ours. Her name is Joanne," said Maureen quietly, as if lost in memory. He wondered if she'd ever tell Libby the truth about the kind of a 'friend' Joanne really was for her.

The scene changed. Zoom in on Roger, who was sitting on their old couch in their loft in his shabby plaid pants and T-shirt. His guitar was in his lap, and he was singing, making seductive faces at the camera in his best rock-star attitude. He smirked. It's been a year since he lost his best friend. He missed Roger so much.

Another scene. Collins and Maureen, in that long ago Halloween were they dragged him trick-or-treating all over the Village…

"Mommy, why are you crying?" asked Libby all of a sudden. He turned his attention from the screen to Maureen only to realize that she _was_ crying. Silent tears were streaming down her face, but she was still watching.

"Mo? Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

"Mommy?" asked Libby again. This time she sounded almost frightened.

She turned to face Libby, and gave her small hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm fine, baby, it's just… I haven't seen those people for a very long time."

"You won't see them again?"

"I will. Someday."

Something within him broke. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her. He thought she'd want to see all that again. Sure, they had hard times, but at the same time they had fun. They were happy. They tried to take the best out of life, no matter how little they had. He stopped the tape.

She turned to look at him, surprised. "Why did you stop it?"

"Because you're crying. That wasn't my point."

"Turn it back on, silly," she laughed in spite of her tears. He hesitated for a second, but soon pressed the play once again. The next thing was her protest in the lot. The dream, Benny, the moo's, the riot. This time she laughed aloud.

* * *

They spent the rest of the morning in the park and had a great time. Maureen was quiet at first, still a bit traumatized by the memories he assumed, but gradually she became her real self again, laughing and making snow-angels with Libby wherever the snow was thick and clean enough. He brought his camera with him and took hundreds of pictures, mostly Libby's. He had to have something to hold on to once they were gone, he figured. He watched through the camera lens as Maureen was pushing Libby on a swing. Libby giggled and said something he couldn't hear, probably wanting to go higher. 

"Such a lovely family." He turned to the sound of the unfamiliar voice and met the smiling face of an old lady, holding the leash of a small dog. He gave her a questioning look. "She looks like her mother, but she has the same smile as you do." He opened his mouth to protest, but she and her dog were already too far for that. He looked at Libby again. _Did_ they have the same smile? She was all Maureen, as far as he could tell. How could anyone even make such a mistake and consider her his?

He sighed. He wished she was his. It would have made everything so damn easier.

* * *

Although she insisted going back there, Libby got bored quite quickly once they got to the skating rink of the Rockefeller Center. She was getting tired and cranky. It's been a really long day. They had quick dinner and headed back for the hotel. It was six as they got there. 

"I'll give her a really quick bath, so just wait in the living room for a while, okay?" asked Maureen as she helped Libby out of her coat and ushered her down the hall.

"Sure," he nodded and sat on the couch. He turned the TV on, but found himself dozing off. It's been a really great day, but he was exhausted. Maybe I'm getting old, he thought bitterly, closing his eyes. Just for a minute, he told himself.

He woke up with the strangest feeling. Something tickled him, gently and persistently. He slowly opened his eyes to find Maureen laying on top of him, spreading soft, light kisses on his neck. He smiled. She smiled back, her eyes glistening. "You're tired?" she asked in that low tone. He didn't trust himself to say anything smart when she used that tone of him, so he simply nodded. He leaned a bit up to kiss her slowly, and gently turned them over so that she would lay on the couch. He kept kissing her, slowly picking up the pace. His hands wandered from her hair to the soft fabric of her sweater. She gasped as his cold hands made contact with her warm skin. He just caressed her slowly, gently, leaving goose-bumps along upper body, deepening the kiss at the same time. His fingers drifted down her waist, until he could feel the material of her jeans.

And then, suddenly, she put her hands on his. "Don't," she breathed.

He tried to stir his mind back on track. He was so unfocused. "What?"

"We can't… do this… here." She touched his cheek. "I'm sorry."

He remembered their talk from that morning. _I just didn't want her to freak out. Or get traumatized. Or something_. He kissed her forehead. "Don't be. I understand. I care about her too."

She smiled, still somewhat out of breath. "I know."

As much as he wanted to spend the night there, he forced himself to get up from the couch. He didn't want Libby to find him there the next morning. They had to take things slow for her.

"I'd better go," he said, holding out a hand for her. She smiled sadly, but took his hand and got up as well. She walked him to the door. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"You better," she said with a shy smile.

"I will," he smiled, and kissed her cheek before he left.

* * *

His cell phone started ringing just as he made his way out of the subway station and to the street were he lived. He smiled as he recognized her number. 

"Hey," he said. He wondered if everything was okay. He was just there half an hour ago, why would she call unless something happened? Maybe Libby got sick or something? He didn't even want to think about it. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just realized that I forgot to tell you something."

He smiled. "Hmm… what is that?"

There was a short pause, as if she hesitated, but only for a second. "I love you."

He just stopped dead on his tracks in the middle of the street. He needed only half a second to take this in. He smiled. "I love you too."

"Good night." He could hear the smile in her voice. She hung up before he had a chance to say anything else, but there wasn't really much to say.

New York City had known a lot of weirdoes of all kinds in the many years of its existence, so the sight of him, skipping all the way home and smiling like an idiot wasn't exceptional. If someone had noticed him, they would probably think he was either drunk, stoned, insane, or possibly all the above. But the truth was, that he didn't give a shit. She loved him. That was the only thing that mattered.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N- Wow. You guys are frickin' unbelievable! Thank you _so much_ for all your amazing reviews! Now I feel much better about chapter 8, no doubt, lol. Since I'm not able to reply to anonymous reviews, I just wanted to clear something up really quick, so- no, Libby is _not_ Mark's. I'm not really into these kind of stories, so I tried to keep it as realistic as possible. Also, notice that Libby is five while Maureen left New York ten years ago so… nope. Sorry if anyone is disappointed :)**

**Anyway, read on, you guys, and keep up your awesome reviews! They truly make my day! Love you all!**

**Time to change the disclaimer a bit- I don't own Mark and Maureen, but I do own Libby, Robin, Tammy and, of course, Roger the Bear :)**

**

* * *

Chapter 9 **

She was staring at the computer screen for about fifteen minutes. Although she thought about this a lot, she was still full of doubts about what she was about to do. It seemed to be her only way. She didn't want to lose Mark. She didn't want to make another mistake.

Before she'd have a chance to regret it, she clicked the 'print' button. Seconds later, her heart beating a bit faster than usual, she reached out for the paper and observed it thoughtfully. You're doing the right thing, she encouraged herself as she added her signature to her resignation letter.

She had just put her pen down when her phone beeped. "Maureen, Stan asks to see you in his office right away."

Her forehead cringed. Stan was the head of the publicity department of the New York office. Although they basically had the same job, his position required even more responsibility than hers, since the San Francisco office was only a branch of the New York one. He had far more things to take care of. If she used to stay long hours in the office after everyone went home, he had to stay even longer. She didn't envy him.

She picked up the phone. "Did he say why?" They already had their last meeting that morning. She was just finishing up some things before heading back to the hotel.

"No, he didn't."

"Okay. Thanks, Lynn. Tell him I'll be right up."

She wondered what was that all about. She put her letter in one of the folders in her briefcase and left her office to meet Stan.

Several people nodded or waved as she passed by. They all knew one another by now, after almost two weeks of exhausting and intensive conferences. She would be sorry to leave them behind. Just as she would be sorry to leave someone else behind. Don't think about this now, she told herself fiercely as she knocked lightly on Stan's door, straightening her navy blue skirt.

"Come in!" called his deep voice from inside the office. She entered, and he raised his head from the paperwork on his desk. His face brightened as he saw her. "Oh, Miss Johnson. Thank you for coming here so fast."

"Lynn said it's urgent. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, I just need to discuss something with you. Please, have a seat." She did. She glanced at him, but his expression remained unreadable. What's going on? "Well, I'll make it short, I know you don't even supposed to be here by now. As you may have heard, I'm about to leave this company in several months."

She nodded. It was no secret. People used to talk about the legendary Stan Anderson's retirement even in the San Francisco office, so of course she knew that. She really wasn't sure where he was going with this. She looked at him questionably. "Well, the reason I'm still holding this position, other than end of year sum-ups, is because I couldn't find the right person to run this department the way I believed it is deserved to be run. But I believe I finally found one," he paused for a moment, looking straight at her.

She couldn't do much, but stare. He didn't imply what she thought he just did, right? She looked at him carefully, trying to find a spark of mischief in those gray eyes she came to know so well in such a short time, but he remained serious. "Stan, what are you saying?" she asked slowly.

He looked at her seriously. "The job is yours, if you want it," he said simply. Her jaw nearly dropped. She couldn't believe her ears. He misinterpreted her reaction, though, for he raised his hand, as if to stop her. "Now, before you try to protest, I've already talked with the San Francisco office. They'll be sorry to let you go, but they agree with me that of you are willing to accept my offer, it's going to be a major step in your career. It might be difficult, getting into this job and taking care of your little one, but I'm sure you'll learn how to manage. I ask you give it a serious though."

There laid her chance. Her once in a lifetime opportunity. Suddenly, everything looked a lot easier. She'd get Mark _and_ a promotion? Her mind was racing, but she didn't want to give him her answer right away. She didn't want to do anything harsh. He was right, she had Libby to think about as well, and she wanted to talk to her first, before she'd make her final decision.

"I'll have to think about this," she said eventually, hoping that her expression didn't reveal her excitement.

Stan nodded. "Of course. I understand you're still in town for the next four days or so?" She nodded. "Take a couple of days to think about it, then."

Couple of hours is all I need, she thought, and then said, "Sir, whatever my final answer will be… thank you, for giving me this opportunity."

"You are a talented young woman. No one deserves this job more than you. And I'm sure you'll do your best, if you'll decide to accept it."

I hope I will, she thought as she shook his hand and left his office, her heart still pounding.

* * *

"Hey, I'm back!" she called as she closed the suite's door, and then sighed happily. No more work! To her surprise, Libby didn't come running from the other room to welcome her, even though she knew it was her last day at work. They were literally counting the days until her four days off, until they could spend some time together. But now… she felt her panic rise. Where was she? Maybe they weren't back yet? But there on the couch were Robin's coat and backpack, so they must have been there. 

It was then when Robin entered the sitting room, looking kind of concerned. She wasn't even smiling, which made things even weirder. "Good, you're back," she said seriously.

"What happened?" she asked, dropping her briefcase and slipping out of her shoes as fast as she could.

"Libby was acting weird the entire morning," said Robin, leading her down the hall. "I didn't want to bother you at work, so I didn't call."

Oh no. "What do you mean? Weird how?"

"She didn't want to go anywhere, or do anything. She just sits there, playing with her dolls." They were standing in front of the bedroom door, which was half opened.

"Did you try to talk to her?"

"I did. She wouldn't say anything," Robin lowered her voice as she opened the door. Libby was sitting on the bed, playing with that stuffed cow Mark bought for her. She didn't even look up. It was like her body was there, but her mind was elsewhere, far away. God, what was wrong with her?

"Okay. I'll try to talk to her. Thanks, Robin."

"No problem. Call me if you need anything."

"I will. Thank you."

Once she heard the door closes behind Robin, she entered the room and sat on the bed next to Libby, who raised her head, but only for a moment, before she turned her attention back to her cow.

"What's up, Munchkin?" she asked as lightly as she could, although she was beginning to feel panicked again. Something was wrong. Libby didn't answer, but before she knew it, tears were beginning to stream down her face. "Baby, what is it? What's wrong?" she asked, wrapping her arms around her little girl. She didn't care she was crying into her favorite suit. Hearing her nearly broke her heart. She just wanted her to stop. She wanted her to smile again. This had never happened before, and she had no idea how to handle it. Her baby was crying and she had no idea why. It made her feel so hopeless.

"I don't want to go home," Libby managed to say in between her heart-breaking sobs.

So _that_ what it was all about? She could handle this, she thought. Well, she hoped she could. She tightened her grip on her daughter, and rubbed her back gently. "Shh… it's okay. It's okay, baby," she murmured soothingly. "Stop crying for a second and listen to me, okay?"

Gradually, her sobbing stopped, and she looked at her mother, her eyes still glistening with the remainders of tears.

"Libby, I wanna ask you something, baby. But you must think about this really carefully before you give me your answer, okay sweetheart?" She had to give it a try. Yes, her daughter was only four, well, almost five now, but it was her future too. She had to know that Libby was okay with this, before she'd do anything. She wanted to do this right.

Libby nodded. "Okay, mommy."

She took a deep breath. Here goes. "If we had the possibility to live in New York instead of going back to San Francisco, do you think you would want that? Because you know that once we move here, we can't regret and move back," she spoke slowly, softly, looking straight into Libby's eyes. It was important for her that Libby would understand all that before she even considered her answer. "It means that we'll have to give up things we love, like that candy shop near our building, and the pet store down the street. You know, the one with the cute white bunnies? And you won't be able to play with Grace and Lydia in the park like you used to."

Libby considered this for a moment. "But if we go back, we'll never see Mark again," she said in a small, quivering voice. Her lower lip started trembling as new tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

"You love him a lot, don't you?" she asked gently. Libby nodded. "Well, you know what?" she lowered her voice to a whisper. "Don't tell anyone, but Mark told me he loves you too. He loves you so much that he might want to be your daddy someday." Please, please, _please_, let this work.

Libby's eyes grew bigger with amazement. "He does?"

"Yeah. If you want to," she looked at Libby seriously. "What do you say? Do you want Mark to be your daddy?"

Slowly, carefully, Libby nodded. "And that means we'll stay with him here? And see him every day?"

"Yeah," she smiled. She felt such a huge relief all of a sudden.

"And you won't have to work all day?"

She laughed. "I'll still have to work. But you'll be with Mark, and in a year or two you'll start school. You won't even notice I'm not there."

"And can we find another candy store here? And maybe a pet store too?" Libby looked at her hopefully.

"Sure, baby. I'm sure there are even bigger stores here."

"I'll miss the bunnies," said Libby sorrowfully, but then her face brightened with new hope. "Maybe we could get a bunny of our own?"

She laughed softly. "Maybe. We'll see." She removed the hair from her daughter's face and looked at her seriously. "So what our decision is going to be, Libby? We're staying?"

It was a matter of seconds before a huge smile replaced the sad expression on Libby's face. She nodded. "We're staying."

* * *

She hurried down the street, as fast as her high heels let her. She left Libby with Robin for the rest of the afternoon. The girl was perfectly fine now, and she was talking endlessly about staying in New York, huge candy shops and cute little white bunnies. Robin was a bit confused at first, but she quickly explained the situation to her. She claimed she knew about Mark and her all along, and was really happy to hear about her job offer. 

There was one thing she still had to do. She crossed the street and took her cell phone out of her bag. She could see him from the glass doors of the gallery as she dialed his number. He was talking with a woman, that Tammy, she assumed. Then he took his cell out of his pocket and smiled after looking at the screen. She smiled as well as she watched him click a button, accepting her call.

"Hey," he said, moving away from the woman.

"Hi," she answered as she entered the gallery. "What are you doing?" she asked, keeping a safe distance.

"Working. Where are you? It's noisy."

"Do you think you could get off for an hour or two?" she asked, deliberately ignoring his question.

"Maybe…" he sounded as if he was smiling. "What's on your mind, Miss Johnson?"

"Late lunch. Or early dinner. I'm starving," she smiled, making her way towards him among the crowd. He still didn't notice her, for he was standing with his back to her.

"Sure. How soon can you be here?"

"Hmm… about five seconds."

"Wow. You're having an affair with Superman or something?"

"Something like that," she said and quickly hung up. Before he had a chance to realize what had just happened, she tapped his shoulder. He turned and just stared at her, with that puzzled expression that made him so cute.

"Welcome to the wonderful world of technology," she smiled, placing her cell phone back in her bag.

He returned her smile and just looked at her for a second, observing her suit. "Have you just finished working? It's late, I thought you had your last meeting this morning."

"I did. I had to go back there for some… unfinished business," she said mysteriously. She was dying to tell him the truth, but stopped herself. Not just yet, she smiled to herself. "So are you ready to go?"

"Cohen, you're ditching me again to flirt with other women?" asked a woman from somewhere behind her. "Just you wait until your mother hears about this!"

She turned and recognized the woman who approached them. It was the same woman she spoke to on that very first day she stepped into that gallery. There was a spark of recognition in the woman's eyes as well, as her fake frown was quickly replaced with a sly, victorious smile.

Mark rolled his eyes. "Tammy, this is Maureen Johnson. Mo, this charming woman is my friend Tammy Horowitz."

"Your _best_ friend, Cohen, don't make me look so bad," grumbled Tammy.

"After this impressive entry, I think I'll have to reconsider your being my best friend."

"Ha ha," Tammy stuck her tongue at him.

She laughed, shaking Tammy's hand. "Nice to meet you, Tammy."

Tammy looked at her intently. That was weird. For a moment, her expression resembled Collins' perfectly. "Same here," she said eventually. "Now I know he wasn't making it up. You _do_ exist."

"Tammy, just shut up," said Mark, frowning and clearly embarrassed.

"Why, but it's so much fun!"

"Well, do you mind being nice for a change and close up alone here today?"

Tammy turned to her. "See? He's ditching me again!" Then she turned to face Mark again. He was staring at her in amazement. "And what do you mean by saying 'being nice for a change'? I'm _always_ nice!"

"Umm… yeah, sure, whatever you say."

She smiled at his defeat. "Get out of here, Cohen, I'll see you tomorrow."

He glared at Tammy, but then turned to her and smiled. "I'll just get my coat and we'll leave, okay?"

"Don't worry, Cohen, I'll keep her company."

"This is exactly what I'm afraid of, Horowitz." He disappeared before she had a chance to respond. They stood there in silence for a couple of minutes, watching Mark as he made his way to the other end of the room. Then Tammy looked at her. There was no humor in her eyes this time. "So, you came back, eventually."

She nodded. "I did."

Tammy hesitated for a moment, but then looked at her seriously and said, "He's so happy. Please don't hurt him again."

She didn't know how much Tammy knew, but she guessed that quite a lot, considering what she had just told her. "I won't hurt him. I promise."

Soon Mark made his way back towards them, wrapping a scarf around his neck.

"Well, you kids have fun," said Tammy as she shooed them out of the gallery. "Maureen, it was nice meeting you."

"You too," she smiled.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, Cohen, bright and early."

"Yes mother," said Mark. She rolled her eyes at him and went back into the gallery again.

Once they were alone in the street, he took her hands in his and kissed them. He had that gleam in his eyes, and she knew he was still thinking about what she had told him on the phone the night before. "So where are we going?"

She smiled and inched closer. "How about your place?" she whispered seductively in his ear.

That seemed to catch him by surprise. Blush slowly crept its way up his face, eventually settling on his cheeks. "I thought you said you were starving."

She flashed him a devilish smile and pulled him closer, kissing him hard. Then she slowly pulled away, keeping her gaze locked with his.

"Oh, I see…" he murmured, sliding his hands to her waist, and leaned to capture her lips with his once again.

They never made it to dinner that afternoon.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N- the following chapter is dedicated to the late, great Jonathan Larson, whose 46th birthday was supposed to be today. Thank you for your One Song Glory. Life could have been so empty without those 8 guys you created. If you are watching all this from up there, I hope you are smiling and proud. You should be.**

**Chapter 10**

Her head rested on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair. He was thinking of absolutely nothing, which was not such a bad thing for a change. He had no idea what time it was, and looking at the digital clock on his bedside meant moving, which was something he didn't really want to do. He glanced at the window, and although the curtain hid most of it, it looked like twilight out there, but he really wasn't sure. It was so quiet he could almost hear her heart beats. He thought she fell asleep, and felt himself slowly drifting to sleep as well.

"Will you marry me?"

His eyes snapped open as she uttered those four words. His hand froze in place. His heart quickened its pace. "What?" Maybe he was dreaming about her saying this. Maybe it was only in his imagination.

She raised her head and turned to meet his gaze. She looked at him honestly, urgently. "Will you marry me?" she repeated, and he knew it was real.

"I… I don't…" he stammered, then stopped himself. She was proposing, and he was making a fool out of himself. Wait a second… _She_ was proposing? "Are you serious?"

She nodded without breaking their gaze. There was a long pause. They were just looking at one another. He didn't need to consider it. He already knew his answer. He knew it for days, maybe even years. And now he was just staring at her speechless for being the first to ask it.

"You always have to be in the center of the attention, don't you?" he teased, laughing nervously, in a hopeless attempt to break his tension. He couldn't believe he wasn't the one proposing.

"Don't be so old fashioned, Mark," she said laughing.

"This is one thing people _should_ be old fashioned about," he insisted.

She laughed softly, laying one hand on his chest. "Why are we even arguing about this?"

"I don't know." Yes, he'd marry her. Right there and then, if she wanted him to. He didn't even know what made her ask it now, when they still had no idea how to make this work, when they still didn't tell Libby anything, but he didn't care. He just wanted her. He looked deeply into her eyes. "Ask it again," he said quietly.

A slow, beautiful smile formed on her face as she crawled up a bit, until her face was just above his. "Mark Cohen, will you marry me?"

He smiled. "Yes. I will."

"Good answer…" she murmured, leaning down to kiss him.

"Why now?" he asked as they pulled away.

"Because it felt right," she replied, cuddling against him like a satisfied kitten. He knew better than doubt her instincts. But he had a feeling that it was not all.

"And…?"

She turned to look at him again. "And… what?"

"And what is it that you're not telling me?"

"Why do you think I'm not telling you something?" she asked innocently, but the sparkle in her eyes suggested otherwise. He gave her a look and she laughed. "I got a job offer. Basically it's the same thing I'm doing in San Francisco. They want me to replace the man who runs the department here." She paused for a moment, then gave him a beautiful smile. "I accepted it couple of hours ago, right before I came to your gallery. This is what I was doing at work so late."

It took no more than a minute for all this to sink in. Then it hit him, and he returned her smile. "This is so great. Congratulations," he said, tightening his arms around her. "What if I said I wouldn't marry you?" he asked jokingly.

"Then I would have done this," she said, putting on her best pout, and giving him her famous innocent-puppy-look. He laughed. "And if that wouldn't work…" she flashed him a seductive grin, "I'm sure I would have found some other way to make you change your mind," she said, running a finger down his chest.

He caught her hand halfway and laced his fingers with hers. "But wait. What about Libby?"

"We had a long talk. She wants to stay. It's her choice as well as mine."

He laughed. It was too easy. "I can't believe this."

"There's only one thing to do now, you know."

"Yeah? What's that?" he asked, moving her hair from her face.

"We can stop by our hotel to pick up Libby, and you can take your wife and daughter out for some pizza," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

_Your wife and daughter_. Oh man. He smiled. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

* * *

Once everything was set and done, they decided he should go to Scarsdale to speak with his mother. That is, Maureen decided, and he hated to admit she was right. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but she insisted they couldn't get married without at least letting his mother know that. So after two days of denial, he finally called his mom, letting her know that he was coming to dinner. He packed a small bag and promised Maureen and Libby he'd be back in time to go to the airport with them. 

He spent hours in his lawyer's office that morning. They discussed the procedures of adoption, and he got all the necessary forms. He didn't tell Maureen he was doing it. He wanted it to be a surprise. To him it made perfect sense. Marrying Maureen, he'd be Libby's father anyway, so why not making it official? He smiled on his way out of the building. He couldn't believe the good luck that suddenly decided to pay him a visit.

He went over to see how Tammy was getting along in the gallery before he made his way to the to rent a car, and out of town. The drive to Scarsdale was quicker this time, or so it seemed. He dreaded the thought of finally getting there. He would have done anything to get away with it, but he knew Maureen was right. He had to do this. Knowing his mother, he knew exactly what to expect, and he didn't like it. Maybe he would be able to convince her that everything would be okay. In his head, he knew what he would say to her. He would look at her in the eye and say, "Mom, I've got good news and bad news. The good news is that I'm finally getting married. The bad news? Well, remember that girl that once dumped me for another woman?…"

And then, before he knew it, he was there. He stayed in the car after parking it, just staring at nothing in particular. You go in there, you say what you have to say. No big deal, he told himself. He took a deep breath, and got out of the car.

"Hello! I'm here!" he said as he entered the kitchen from the back door. His mother was there, as he expected. She had just taken something out of the stove. It smelled great. His mom was such a great cook. He remembered missing this when he was living in the East Village, hungry, jobless and frozen.

"Mark! Finally!" she exclaimed as she approached him, giving him a huge, crushing hug. "Just in time for dinner. And Cindy called and heard you were coming, she said she might join us too!" Knowing that Cindy might get there made him feel somewhat relieved. He needed someone to support him while breaking the news to their mother. "Here, try one of these," she said, putting a tray of recently baked rolls under his nose. He took one, suddenly realizing he ate nothing that day. He watched his mother as she set the table.

"Do you need help with these?"

"Don't speak with your mouth full, honey."

Like he was five, he thought frowning. "Sorry."

"You don't call anymore," she commented, giving him that accusing look.

"I'm working, mom. You know how it is around the holiday season." Every year it was the same old choir. He stopped feeling guilty years ago. He was too distracted to feel guilty at the moment.

"I'd be dead and gone and you'll never know, because you never call."

He sighed. "Mom, come on… you know that's not true. Besides, when I _do_ call every day, it annoys you."

"Of course it does! Because don't you think I can take a good care of myself? I'm not as old as you think!" she said, clearly offended.

He never said anything right. Or maybe it was because she was changing her mind in the speed of light, he wasn't sure. "Mom, I didn't mean to say you were old… Come on, sit down, I wanna talk to you before Cindy gets here," he took the plates from her hands. He was so nervous. His hands were actually shaking.

"Talk? About what?" she asked, sitting down. She eyed him curiously.

He put the plates on the table, sat on the chair next to hers and looked at her seriously. "I'm getting married-" he started, but soon, expected enough, was cut off.

"_What_? Mark… my precious baby boy… finally _married_? Mazel Tov!" There were tears of joy in her eyes. Then she figured something and her happy expression turned somewhat concerned. "Isn't it too soon? I thought you weren't seeing her for long. You didn't even meet her parents, I didn't meet her, you can't just-"

"Mom, mom, slow down!" he said, laughing at her enthusiastic reaction. Mostly because he knew it wouldn't last long. "I'll tell you everything, okay? Just let me talk and _please_ wait until I finish. I promise I won't leave things unexplained." He looked at her for a moment. She looked at him intently, but said nothing, as if trying to do as she was asked. Good start, he encouraged himself. Now just say that. But then it was like he forgotten how to speak. Oh shit.

As if feeling his distress, she gave him an encouraging smile. "You can start by telling me her name."

That's it. Moment of truth. "Maureen Johnson."

At first, he thought she didn't hear him, for he got absolutely no comment. Then he raised his head to look at her, and she looked back at him in amazement. Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor. "You mean to tell me that you, my smart, sensible son, is going to marry this… this Shiksa from the suburbs?" she exploded. Well, not that he didn't expect that, but he thought he'd be able to say more before it'd happen. "I thought you understood your father and I were right all along about the likes of her! I thought you realized that when she dumped you! Do you really think ten years made any difference? A whore always stays one!"

He was completely shocked that such a nasty speech came from someone who had just told him not to speak with his mouth full, but he was too angry to delve into it. "The likes of her? What is that supposed to mean? You know nothing about her!" he felt his voice rising. He didn't want to yell. He wanted to have a civilized, quiet conversation. He wanted to make her change her mind about Maureen. Who was he kidding?

"I know enough," she said coldly. "Will you at least tell me how your paths came to cross again? I thought she was out of your life for good."

He tried to ignore that malicious tone of hers. "She moved to San Francisco but got to New York on business. I met her by accident, in my gallery. Mom, you must give her another chance. She is better, she has changed."

"Did she change her religion as well, by any chance?"

"Is that what it's all about? That she's not Jewish?"

"It's a part of it."

"Why is this so damn important? Roger wasn't Jewish, you know, and you never seemed to have a problem with that."

"You didn't marry Roger!" She sighed, and looked at him suspiciously. "I wonder what she had to do to make you take her back. Well, being the manipulative devil she was back then, I'm sure it was pretty easy for her now, and you just fell into her trap once again."

How could she be so cruel? "Look, nothing of what you'll say is going to make me change my mind. I'm going to marry her, I'm going to adopt her daughter, and-"

Her eyes grew big, and only then he realized his slip. Shit. "Her daughter?" she echoed, clearly horrified by revealing this fact. He slowly nodded. He didn't want to tell her about Libby, at least not until she'd change her mind about Maureen, but since there was no chance for it now, there was no point hiding this. By the look on her face, he knew that as far as she was concerned, it was her winning card. "You see, this only proves my point. Where is the child's father?" she had that tone, as if she knew the answer. He knew what she was thinking.

"It's a long story, and none of your business!" Yes, he was being rude, but he didn't care anymore. She was far more rude.

"If you think I'll let this whore and her bastard daughter into this house, into this family, you're wrong." Her voice was quiet, but her intention couldn't have been clearer.

"I was wrong coming here and trying to change your mind," he said coldly, standing up. He shouldn't have come.

"Your father must be turning in his grave, may he rest in peace. What a shame. How could you do such a thing? Is that the education you got from us? Or maybe you just spent too much time out of this house, in the company of people just like her?"

He didn't even bother answering. What was the point? He couldn't take it anymore. He had to get out of there. He opened the door and nearly bumped into Cindy, who was about to knock.

"Mark! You're early! It's good to see you, little brother!" she said giving him a hug. He didn't hug back. He was too angry for it. She must have felt that, for she slowly released her grip and gave him a questioning look. Then she seemed to notice their mother, who was still sitting at the table, half crying and murmuring things under her breath. "What's wrong? Aren't you staying for dinner?" she asked, looking at him with utter confusion.

"I think I lost my appetite," he said, moving past her and out of the house.

He just sat in the car, his head on the steering wheel. He didn't want to drive in this condition. He had to take a minute to pull himself together. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Well, actually he could, only he hoped she would at least try to listen. How could she talk like that? For a moment, it felt like he was the adult and she was the child. Couldn't she restrain herself? Couldn't she at least pretend she was happy for him?

Someone knocked on the window, startling him. His head snapped up and he saw Cindy, standing there with his backpack in her hands, looking concerned. He reached a hand to open the door and she slid into the seat next to him. She was fiddling with the zipper of his bag, avoiding eye contact. He didn't want to start this conversation. If his mother sent her to put some reason into his head, he didn't want to make it easier on her.

"Mom told me," she said hesitantly, finally looking at him.

"And you're here to convince me to drop it?" he cut her off dryly. He was sick and tired of his mother's schemes. "Because if you are, you're wasting your time. I don't wanna hear it."

Cindy sighed. "Mark… even if I was, you're a big boy. No matter what I'd say, eventually you'd make your own choices, your own mistakes."

"Marrying her is not a mistake!" he cut her off abruptly.

"I didn't say that it was." Cindy didn't seem intimidated by his outburst. Her tone remained calm. She didn't take their mother's side, he suddenly realized. She wasn't there because of that. She was there to hear his side.

"I wish she could just listen," he said, looking at her sadly. "She didn't even try to understand."

"You know mom. You know how she is when someone tries to hurt us. You'll understand this better when you'll have kids of your own, but it's a natural thing to do for a mom. And Maureen hurt you. Maybe you're too head over heels in love with her right now to remember, but you were a wreck because of her."

"Cindy, I'm not stupid. Of course I remember. But mom is being unfair, she's judging her according to the one time she had seen her, according to her _religion_, for God's sake. Back then she had a point, I guess, but not now. People change."

There was a pause, then Cindy asked quietly, "She said you were going to adopt her daughter?" he heard the confusion in her voice. He knew she was expecting an explanation, but he didn't feel like giving her one. Maybe some other time. So he simply nodded.

"I am. I wish you could see her, Cindy. She's the cutest little girl I've ever seen in my life. Oh wait," he said reaching for his wallet. He suddenly remembered the small photo he kept there. It was one of the pictures he took couple of days ago in the park; a close up of Libby, holding her teddy bear and smiling to the camera.

Cindy took the photo and observed it silently. "How old is she?"

"She'll be 5 in February," he said, taking the photo and putting it back in its place. "Look, Cindy, I don't expect you to support me or anything, just… don't judge them before you know them. Don't take mom's side."

"Mark, I've never intended to take mom's side. I know my little brother. If you think she's the one, who am I to argue?" she smiled, and her gaze wandered from him to her right hand. She looked at it thoughtfully before she took one of her rings off. "Here," she said, taking both his hands and placing the ring carefully between them.

He opened his hands to take a look at it. The spark of the Aquamarine in its center blinded him for a second. It was a beautiful ring. In fact, it looked kind of familiar. He looked from the ring to Cindy. "What's this?"

"It was grandma Ida's. I am the eldest, so I got it when Dan and I got married. Now I'm giving it to you, for Maureen."

He felt tears in the corners of his eyes and wanted to kick himself. You are _not_ going to cry, you loser! Weird, for a moment it felt like Roger was there in the car with them, telling him that. The thought alone brought a smile to his lips.

"I've never met Maureen, but I hope you deserve each other. You've got my blessing."

He stared at her for the longest time, completely in loss of words. He slid the ring onto one of his fingers so he wouldn't lose it, and pulled his sister into a hug. "Thank you, Cindy."

"You're welcome," she smiled, slowly pulling away. "And Mazel Tov," she kissed his cheek, messed with his hair a bit and went out of the car.

* * *

After returning the car to the rental agency, he took the subway back uptown and made his way to Hilton. It was pretty late, but he didn't want to call and risk waking Libby, who was surely asleep by now. He just didn't feel like going home. Although his conversation with Cindy raised his spirits a little bit, his mother's last promise, or threat, echoed mercilessly in his head. _If you think I'll let this whore and her bastard daughter into this house, into this family, you're wrong. _

Maureen opened the door for him. She was wearing a white robe that had the logo of the hotel embroidered on its breast pocket in scarlet and gold. Her hair was wet, streaming down her shoulders. Luckily, it didn't seem like he woke her up. She smiled as she saw him on the doorway.

"Mark! What are you doing here?" she pulled him inside and closed the door. When she turned to look at him again, she had that naughty sparkle in her eyes. "If I knew you were coming here I wouldn't have packed my black lacy nightgown…" He was too distracted to get excited about her suggestive innuendo. He didn't even smile. She made one step towards him, suddenly concerned. "Hey… is everything okay?"

He didn't answer. He buried his head in her chest, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his head, slowly massaging his scalp. He breathed in her scent. She smelled of soap and cleanliness. There was something so comforting about it. He just wanted to hold her.

"It didn't go so well, huh?" she asked gently, slowly moving away, making him face her.

"It was horrible, worse than I thought." He looked at her hesitantly. "Is it okay if I'll stay here tonight? I really don't feel like being home alone."

She didn't even hesitate. She nodded. "Sure. I was packing until half an hour ago, so Libby went to sleep in the smaller bedroom. Do you have your stuff though?"

He showed her his bag. "I was supposed to spend the night there, remember?"

"Was it that bad?" she asked, leading him down the hall. She closed the bedroom door shut behind them but didn't lock it.

"It was bad. I don't wanna talk about it." He'd die before he'd tell her everything his mother said about her.

"Okay," she nodded, and moved closer. Slowly, gently, she helped him out of his clothes. He just stood there, in the middle of the room, letting her do that. Suddenly, he felt so tired. "Did you eat? I guess we can call the room service if you want something."

He glanced at his watch and looked back at her, his eyebrow raised. "At 10PM?"

"We'll tell them I'm pregnant. They won't refuse a pregnant woman's craving for a late night dinner," she said winking, reaching for his bag. Finding his pajama pants, she threw them at his direction.

He hardly smiled as he caught them halfway and put them on. "No, that's okay. I bought something on my way back. Let's just go to sleep, okay?"

"Sure," she said, taking his arm, and led him to the bed. He let her take off his glasses and tuck him in as if he was a child, and watched her as she changed from the robe into a nightshirt. Then she crawled under the covers, snuggling closer to him. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes. His thoughts drifted back to his grandmother's ring, which was now in his wallet. He'd give it to her tomorrow, he decided. Right before they'd leave.

They'd be okay, he thought, right before he fell asleep. They'd be happy together. With or without his mother's blessing. Cindy didn't have to worry. They did deserve each other.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N- lol, does anyone even remember this was originally a oneshot? This is the last chapter of my little Christmas fairy-tale. I wanna thank you once again, everyone, for your reviews, good words and encouragement. It means the world to me, and I love you for it. Honestly. I can't thank you enough. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. **

**Oh yeah, and since today is my birthday, reviews on this chapters are more than welcome, and will be considered as birthday presents… need I say more?… **

**See you soon you guys! Thanks again!**

**Thousand sweet kisses, **

**T.M**

**

* * *

Chapter 11 **

"MARK!" Thump.

What the hell?

Slowly, she opened her eyes. She glanced around, a bit disoriented still. For a moment, she forgot where she was. It's been a long time since she had a proper night's sleep like this one. She just had this thing against hotel beds. She looked behind her. Her guess turned out to be correct. It was Libby who jumped onto the bed once she detected Mark sleeping there. He was rubbing his eyes now, sitting against the bed-board, slowly awakening as well, it seemed.

"Munchkin, how did you get here?" she asked, yawning, as she turned to face Libby, who somehow got herself under the covers and was laying between the two of them. She pulled the girl closer and started tickling her.

Libby yelped in surprise. "No, mommy, stop it!" she protested, giggling.

She stopped, and Libby snuggled closer to her. She nuzzled the back of her neck, and just held her close for a moment, breathing the sweet scent of her hair. They used to do this every Sunday morning at home in San Francisco. Libby would climb into her bed and they would just lay there, under the covers, just holding one another for a while before it was time to get up. "Did you sleep okay, baby?"

"Yes, sleep okay," Libby nodded, and looked at Mark, who was watching them with

an amused expression on his face. "Did you sleep okay?" she asked him, imitating her mother's question.

"Yeah, I slept great," he answered, smiling but still a bit tired-looking.

She threw him a playful look and then smiled at Libby. "He still looks kind of sleepy to me, Munchkin," she said thoughtfully. "Maybe we should tickle him a little bit too, huh?"

"_No_!" Mark nearly launched himself out of bed. He laughed. "I'm awake."

"Mommy, why do we have to leave if we said we stay?"

"Because we need to get all our stuff here, sweetie. It's only for a little while." She knew it would be at least a month before they could go back. She had to inform their landlord they were moving out, and then they'd have some packing to do and she had a lot to do at work before taking her new position. Stan promised to start taking care of that when she was in his office the day before. They'd make it easier on her the best they could, he assured her. "We'll be back here before your birthday." I hope, she added silently.

"Can't you come with us?" Libby looked at Mark, who shook his head sadly.

"I'll be here when you get back," he assured her. Their gazes locked above Libby's head. He refused to tell her how did the conversation with his mother go, but she could guess. He was so upset when he came over the night before, so it was pretty obvious. It wasn't a big surprise, because she remembered too well the way both his parents treated her back then, on their one time visit at Scarsdale. It was kind of predictable. She didn't expect Mark's mother to change her attitude simply because her husband was dead. But she didn't want Mark to move away from his family because of this. Because of her. It wasn't right.

"Mo?" She blinked, and turned to look at him, a little unfocused. He smirked. "Maybe it is _you_ we need to tickle, what do you say, Libby?" he asked, winking at Libby, who responded with a huge grin.

"That's sweet, turning my own child against me," she said with a fake frown. Her heart was breaking. She'd miss him so much. Then she quickly pulled herself together. No time for this right now, she told herself. They still had a lot to do that day. "Libby, I put your clothes on the chair in your room last night. Why don't you go to wash your face and brush your teeth and I'll be there in a second to help you getting dressed?"

"Okay mommy!" said Libby, jumping out of bed.

Once Libby was gone, she looked at Mark. His blonde hair was even more tousled than usual. He looked so adorable. She climbed onto his lap and wrapped both her arms around his neck, smiling.

He returned her smile, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Does that mean you forgive me for turning Libby against you?"

Reminding her that was not a smart move. She looked at him thoughtfully, her expression amused. She wouldn't tell him she already forgot about it. Oh no. The former diva still had _some_ dignity left. "Did you really think I'd let you get away with it so easily?"

He smiled, playing along. "Oh, I see… so what is it that I'll have to do in order to repay for my horrible sin?"

"You'll have to figure that out yourself," she said, looking at him playfully.

"Yeah, I figured as much," he said before pulling her closer for a kiss. She definitely didn't see it coming, but soon she was kissing him back, telling herself he definitely got her forgiveness by now. Mark was always a great kisser, even back then when they were dating and he was completely inexperienced with girls. It never ceased to amaze her. It was like he knew what he was doing by pure instinct, or maybe it was because he was always so attentive to other people's needs. At some point she just stopped rationalizing it. She simply considered herself lucky.

He held her closer as their kiss deepened. For a moment she lost all thought. She didn't even think about what might happen if Libby would choose that exact same moment to barge into the room. He trailed his kisses from her lips to her neck. She buried her head in his shoulder, repressing a moan.

"Don't… even… think about it…" she murmured against his neck as she felt his fingers drifting under her nightshirt, trying to rip it off.

"Why?" he smiled mischievously and kissed her again.

"Mommy, come on!"

She pulled away reluctantly, giving him a look. "That's why." She kissed the tip of his nose. "But in case you were wondering, your apology is accepted."

"Lucky me, I thought I'd have to pay a heavier price," he said, blushing slightly.

"Well, if you really want to-"

"Mommy!"

"I'll be right there, Munchkin!" She went out of bed, pulling him after her. "Come on, you. We've got a lot of stuff to do before our flight."

"Stuff? What stuff?" he asked, confused, reaching for his clothes on the dresser.

"Something I promised myself to do before I go back," she said seriously, wrapping her arms around his waist. She looked into his eyes. "Do you feel better?"

For a moment she was sure he was about to tell her what exactly happened with his mother. He had that look… but then, in a second, it was gone. "Yeah. I do feel better." They stood there for a moment, just holding each other. She couldn't believe it was about to end in several hours. He slowly let her go. "You should go and help her."

"Yeah. I'll see you in a bit," she said and went over to help Libby.

* * *

In spite of Libby's endless protests, they left her at Robin's place after checking out. Since their flight was scheduled to late afternoon, there was still something she wanted to do before they'd go to the airport. Mark said she shouldn't hurry, they'd be back in a while anyway, but she felt like she had to do it today. So they took a cab and went to the cemetery. 

Luckily, the weather was bearable. It wasn't snowing or raining. It was just amazingly cold. She snuggled into her coat and she followed Mark silently along a trail he seemed to know so well. She wasn't sure how she felt. It was a strange mixture of expectation, sadness and fear.

She thought it was funny, even a bit ironic. This was the very reason she tried to avoid going back to New York in the first place. Her need to detach herself from the pain of the past. And now, there she was, on her way to see the remainders of that past she tried all her life to keep away. Then she came to realize how useless it was. She could never escape it, no matter how hard she tried. It was always there to haunt her, in one way or another.

"Here we are," Mark's voice invaded her thoughts and she realized they had stopped walking. She raised her head to face them. A silent line for tombstones, that once were her friends, the closest thing to a family she ever had. They were buried side by side. Angel and Collins, Roger and Mimi. She knelt on the grass in front of Collins' tombstone and just looked at it for a while. _February 4th, almost five years ago… is exactly the day Collins passed away_. She thought how amazing it was, that at the same day Libby came into the world, Collins left it. And she never got a chance to see him leave, because she ran away. He would never know… none of them would ever know…

Her gaze wandered from one tombstone to another, and suddenly she got this terrible feeling, as if she was being watched. As if they were all looking at her, into her, blaming her for not being there when they needed her, for choosing the easy way out and leaving all of them behind.

As if he could tell what was on her mind, Mark gently pulled her into a hug. "Don't think about it," he said quietly. "They would have been so proud of you if they knew her, I know they would."

"But they'll never know that I-"

"They do know," he cut her off, gently yet persistently. "You're here now."

They said nothing for a long time. They just sat there, holding one another, watching the tombstones. The wind was rustling softly through the tree trunks. It was almost inevitable to get carried away by memories. April's funeral, the trauma of losing her the way they did. Angel was next, and while in April's case they were all too numbed by the suddenness of her death to actually feel the pain, when Angel died they got their first taste of real grief. Then Mimi… and nothing seemed fair in the world anymore. Nothing made sense. They were all so young…

Mark gently took her hand and interlaced his fingers with hers. She smiled and looked down, and her forehead cringed with confusion when she detected a spark on one of her fingers, that definitely wasn't there before. But how did that ring got there? She moved her gaze from the ring to Mark, who smiled sheepishly.

"Well, since I can't even propose properly, I'm trying to save my dignity the best I can," he joked, and looked up. "Come on, you can't say you don't feel Roger and Collins right here, laughing their asses over because I'm making a fool out of myself."

She laughed. Weird, but for a slight second she _could_ feel them. She looked at the ring he slid on her finger when she didn't notice. Tiny diamonds surrounding one perfect Aquamarine. It was beautiful. "Where did you get it?"

"It was my grandmother's. Cindy got it when she got married. Yesterday, she gave it to me, for you."

"And what did your mother have to say about your sister giving this piece of family inheritance to your disagreeable fiancé?" she asked only half jokingly. The other half was completely serious. She made sure he could read that in her expression.

He looked at her seriously. "She doesn't know. Even if she does, I don't care."

"You won't be able to keep it a secret forever. You realize that sooner or later you'll have to tell me what happened there yesterday, right?" she said as gently as she could. She didn't want to put pressure on him, but she had to know.

"I know. I'll tell you, I promise. Just… not now," he said, tightening his embrace. "Just don't change your mind or something once you get back to San Francisco."

She smiled. "If you're chickening out let me just tell you, it's too late. I won't change my mind. I'll marry you whether you like it or not, Mark Cohen."

He smiled, then looked up again and back at her with the slightest frown upon his bluish gray eyes. "Yeah. Now I can definitely hear them laughing."

* * *

There was a sad yet comfortable silence between them on the way to the airport. None of them spoke, not even Libby, who was sitting between the two of them in the cab, clinging to Mark and hugging her teddy bear close. It broke her heart to see her little girl so down. 

He walked them as far as he was allowed to go, carrying the bigger suitcase. She held the other suitcase in one hand, and Libby's hand with the other. The last thing she wanted was to lose her daughter in the crowded airport.

"So this is it," said Mark as they stopped in front of their gate. He let go of the suitcase. She did the same. He took her hand and gently pulled her towards him, holding her close. "Call me when you get home. I don't care when is it. Don't worry about waking me or something. Just let me know you're okay."

She nodded. She was too upset to start arguing about it. "Okay. I will," she promised, slowly pulling away.

"I'll see what I can do. Maybe I'll be able to come over next weekend or something."

"That will be great," she smiled. She wished he could. She just looked at him for a moment. Who would have thought that all this would happen from a simple business trip to New York? She touched his cheek. "I'll miss you so much."

"I know. I'll miss you too." He looked down at Libby. "Both of you," he said, kneeling down beside her. Her eyes glistened with tears, but she didn't cry. "You'll be a good girl, right? And take care of your mommy?"

Libby nodded seriously. "I will."

He smiled. "Good. Now come here, give me a hug," he said, outstretching his arms. Libby stepped into them and wrapped her little arms around his neck as he gave her a big hug. As he slowly pulled away, his eyes were glistening with tears as well.

Libby looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, and then reached for her teddy bear. She held it out for Mark. "Will you keep him until we go back?"

She stared at her daughter in disbelief. Ever since she got it for her birthday, Libby and Roger were inseparable. It went everywhere with her. Once they forgot it on a bench in the park, and she had to go back there in the middle of the most frightening thunder storm to get it back because Libby wouldn't sleep without it. And now she wanted to leave it here with Mark?

"Baby, are you sure? You know, we won't be able to fly back to get it if you'll change your mind."

Libby looked at her teddy bear thoughtfully, and eventually nodded. "Yes, want Mark to keep it."

Mark seemed to understand what that teddy bear meant for Libby, for he gave her a reassuring nod and said seriously, "Sure, Libby. I'll keep it. He'll be safe with me, don't worry. Both of us will be here to welcome you when you go back."

"Promise?" she asked, still a bit uncertain, clutching the teddy bear close to her chest.

Mark smiled. "You bet."

She hesitated, but only for a second. Then she kissed the teddy bear's forehead. "Bye Roger. Mark promised to take care of you. Be good, okay?"

A smile found its way to her lips as she watched Libby, who was passing her favorite bear to Mark. There was no regret in the girl's eyes as Mark stood up, and Roger was out of her reach. No regret at all. Only pure trust.

"You should go," said Mark, glancing at his watch. A stewardess in navy blue uniform smiled at them politely, gesturing a huge clock nearby. They should hurry or they'd miss their flight. Actually, that didn't sound half bad. Mark shook his head as if he guessed what was on her mind. He pulled her to his arms again.

"I love you," she whispered into his ear.

He smiled, placing a small kiss on her lips. "I love you too. Go, you'll miss your plane," he added, handing her one of the suitcase.

She hesitated, but then, knowing she had no choice, she took it from him and picked up the other suitcase as well. They shared one last smile before she gave their tickets to the stewardess. She didn't look back, or she would never have gone on that plane. As they were walking towards their gate, Libby suddenly turned back.

"Bye Mark!" she called, waving at him. He smiled and waved back, holding her teddy bear close to his heart. Their eyes met for the last time, but there were no tears this time. Just silent hope.

"Love you," he mouthed.

She smiled. "Me too," she mouthed back. She looked down at Libby. "Come on, baby. We gotta go."

Once they were seated, she helped Libby to fasten her seat belt. She adjusted her own seat belt next and leaned back, closing her eyes. Soon the engines started roaring as the plane started its slow ascent. The Captain's voice was heard clearly through the speakers as he gave a short weather report and the expected landing time, but she could hardly listen to him. Her thoughts wandered back to that morning, to the cemetery. Would they ever know how much they meant to her? Mark said they did, and she could only hope he was right. She touched her new ring, a slow smile curling on her lips. She missed him already. She thought it was funny, the way life worked. In a matter of a few days her whole life changed, and the past she tried so hard to escape from, suddenly became her future.

She opened her eyes as she felt Libby's soft little hand touching hers. "Don't cry, mommy," she told her seriously. "It's only for a little while."

She touched her cheek, suddenly feeling the dampness of tears. "I know, Munchkin," she said with a small smile. She squeezed Libby's hand. "Will you be okay without Roger?"

"Will be okay, mommy."

Seconds later, the plane was in the air. They were on their way home. She glanced at the window. The city was spread below them, its magnificent lights and billboards slowly fading into darkness as the plane carried them higher, and further away. Soon Libby was asleep, and before she knew it, she was slowly drifting into slumber as well. Libby's words echoed through her mind. _It's only for a little while_. They'd be back before they'd realize they were gone. And when they would, Mark would be there. Everything would be okay.

In her sleep, she was smiling.

**The End**


End file.
